RULES. 

I— TIME 

Books  may  be  kept  two  weeks   with 
the  privilege  of  renewal. 

II— FINE. 

One  cent  a  day  beyond  time. 
HI—APPLICATION. 
Application  for  books  must  be  made  to 
NVrfi>t«try    or  person    in   charge,   and    all 
books  returned  to  her. 


•   o  , 
THE  TWO  WIVES; 


OB, 


LOST  AND  WON. 


BY  T.  S.  ARTHUR. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
LIPPINCOTT,    GRAMBO   &   CO. 

NO.  14  NORTH  FOURTH  STREET. 

1851. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1851,  by 

T.  S.  ARTHUR, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Eastern  District  of 
Pennsylvania. 


Stereotyped  by  L.  Johnson  &  Co. 

Philadelphia. 
Printed  by  T.  K.  k  P.  G.  Collins. 


PREFACE. 


THE  story  of  the  "  Two  Wives ;  or,  Lost  and  Won," 
is  intended  to  show  the  power  of  tender,  earnest,  self- 
forgetting  love,  in  winning  back  from  the  path  of  danger 
a  husband  whose  steps  have  strayed,  and  who  has  ap- 
proached the  very  brink  of  ruin ;  and,  by  contrast,  to 
exhibit  the  sad  consequences  flowing  from  a  want  of 
these  virtues  under  like  circumstances. 

This  book  is  the  third  in  the  Series  of  "ARTHUR'S 
LIBRARY  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD."  The  fourth,  which  is 
nearly  ready,  will  be  called  "THE  WAYS  OF  PROVI- 
DENCE ;  OR,  HE  DOETH  ALL  THINGS  WELL." 


- 


THE  T¥0  VIYES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

•» 

"You  are  not  going  out,  John?"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
kinson, looking  up  from  the  work  she  had  just  taken 
into  her  hands.  There  was  a  smile  on  her  lips ;  but 
her  eyes  told,  plainly  enough,  that  a  cloud  was  upon 
her  heart. 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  was  sitting  by  a  small  work-table, 
in  a  neatly  furnished  room.  It  was  evening,  and  a 
shaded  lamp  burned  upon  the  table.  Mr.  Wilkinson, 
who  had  been  reading,  was  standing  on  the  floor, 
having  thrown  down  his  book  and  risen  up  hastily, 
as  if  a  sudden  purpose  had  been  formed  in  his  mind. 

"I  shall  only  be  gone  a  little  while,  dear,"  re- 
turned Mr.  Wilkinson,  a  slight  air  of  impatience 
visible  beneath  his  kind  voice  and  manner. 

"Don't  go,  John,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  still 
forcing  a  smile  to  her  countenance.  "  I  always  feel 
so  lonely  when  you  are  away.  We  only  have  our 
evenings  to  be  together ;  and  I  cannot  bear  then  to  be 
robbed  of  your  company.  Don't  go  out,  John;  that's 
a  good,  dear  husband." 


6  THE   TWO   "WIVES;    OR, 


And  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  in  the  earnestness  of  her 
desire  to  keep  her  husband  at  home,  laid  aside  her 
sewing,  and  rising,  approached  and  leaned  her  hands 
upon  his  shoulder,  looking  up  with  an  affectionate, 
appealing  expression  into  his  face. 

"  You're  a  dear,  good  girl,  Mary,"  said  Mr.  Wil- 
kinson, tenderly,  and  he  kissed  the  pure  lips  of  his 
wife  as  he  spoke.  "  I  know  it's  wrong  to  leave  you 
alone  here.  But,  I  won't  be  gone  more  than  half 
an  hour.  Indeed  I  won't.  See,  now;"  and  he 
drew  forth  his  watch;  "it  is  just  eight  o'clock,  and 
I  will  be  home  again  precisely  at  half-past  eight,  to 
a  minute." 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  made  no  answer ;  but  her  hus- 
band saw  that  tears  were  in  the  eyes  fixed  so  lovingly 
upon  him. 

"Now  don't,  love,"  said  he,  tenderly,  "make  so 
much  of  just  half  an  hour's  absence.  I  promised 
Elbridge  that  I  would  call  around  and  see  him  about 
a  little  matter  of  business,  and  I  must  keep  my 
word.  I  had  forgotten  the  engagement  until  it 
crossed  my  mind  while  reading." 

"If  you  have  an  engagement."  There  was  a 
certain  emphasis  in  the  words  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson 
that  caused  her  husband  to  partly  turn  his  face 
away. 

"  I  have,  dear.  But  for  that,  I  should  not  think 
of  leaving  you  alone." 

Almost  instinctively  Mrs.  Wilkinson  withdrew 


LOST   AND   WON. 


the  hands  she  had  placed  upon  the  shoulder  of  her 
husband,  and  receded  from  him  a  step  or  two ;  at 
the  same  time  her  face  was  bent  downwards,  and 
her  eyes  rested  upon  the  floor. 

For  some  moments  Mr.  Wilkinson  stood  as  if  in 
earnest  debate  with  himself;  then  he  said,  in  a 
cheerful,  lively  tone — 

"  Good-by,  love.  I  shall  only  be  gone  half  an 
hour."  And  turning  away,  left  the  room.  He  did 
not  pause  until  he  was  in  the  street.  Then  a  spirit 
of  irresolution  came  over  him,  and  he  said  to  him- 
self, as  he  moved  slowly  away, 

"  It  isn't  kind  in  me  to  leave  Mary  alone  in  this 
way ;  I  know  it  isn't.  But  I  want  to  see  Elbridge ; 
and,  in  fact,  partly  promised  that  I  would  call  upon 
him  this  evening.  True,  I  can  say  all  I  wish  to  say 
to  him  in  the  morning,  and  to  quite  as  good  purpose. 
But " 

"Wilkinson,  whose  steps  had  been  growing  more 
and  more  deliberate,  stopped.  For  some  time  he 
stood,  in  a  thoughtful  attitude — then  slowly  re- 
turned. His  hand  was  in  his  pocket,  his  dead-latch 
key  between  his  fingers,  and  his  foot  upon  the  mar- 
ble sill  of  his  door.  And  thus  he  remained,  in  de- 
bate with  himself,  for  as  long  a  time  as  two  or  three 
minutes. 

"Yes;  I  must  see  him  !  I  had  forgotten  that," 
he  exclaimed,  in  a  low  tone,  and  suddenly  stepped 
back  from  the  door,  and  with  a  rapid  pace  moved 


8  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


down  the  street.  A  walk  of  ten  minutes  brought 
him  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Elbridge.  But  it  so  hap- 
pened that  this  gentleman  was  not  at  home. 

"  How  soon  do  you  expect  him  to  return  ?"  was 
inquired  of  the  servant. 

"  He  may  be  here  in  half  an  hour ;  or  not  be- 
fore ten  o'clock/'  was  the  reply. 

Wilkinson  was  disappointed.  Leaving  his  name 
with  the  servant,  and  saying  that  he  would  probably 
call  again  during  the  evening,  he  descended  the  steps 
and  walked  away.  He  was  moving  in  the  direction 
of  his  home,  and  had  arrived  within  a  block  thereof 
when  he  stopped,  saying  to  himself  as  he  did  so — 

"  I  must  see  Elbridge  this  evening.  It  is  already 
nearly  half  an  hour  since  I  left  home,  and  I  promised 
Mary  that  I  would  not  remain  away  a  moment  longer 
than  that  time.  But,  I  did  not  think  Elbridge 
would  be  out.  Poor  Mary  !  She  looks  at  me  with 
such  sad  eyes,  sometimes,  that  it  goes  to  my  very 
heart.  She  cannot  bear  to  have  me  out  of  her 
sight.  Can  she  doubt  me  in  any  thing  ?  No ;  I 
will  not  believe  that.  She  is  a  loving,  gentle- 
minded  creature — and  one  of  the  best  of  wives.  Ah 
me  !  I  wish  I  were  more  like  her." 

Still  Wilkinson  remained  standing,  and  in  debate 
with  himself. 

"  I  will  go  home,"  said  he,  at  length,  with  em- 
phasis, and  walked  quickly  onward.  He  was  within 
a  few  doors  of  his  own  home,  when  his  steps  began 


LOST  AND  WON.  9 


to  linger  again.  He  had  come  once  more  into  a 
state  of  irresolution. 

"  Perhaps  Elbridge  has  returned."  This  thought 
made  him  stop  again.  "  He  must  have  understood 
me  that  I  would  be  around." 

Just  at  this  moment  the  crying  of  a  child  was 
heard. 

"Is  that  Ella?"  Wilkinson  walked  around  a 
little  way,  until  he  came  nearly  opposite  his  own 
house.  Then  he  stopped  to  listen  more  attentively. 

Yes.    It  was  the  grieving  cry  of  his  own  sick  babe. 

"  Poor  child  !"  he  murmured.  "  I  wonder  what 
can  ail  her  ?" 

He  looked  up  at  the  chamber  windows.  The  cur- 
tains were  drawn  aside,  and  he  saw  upon  the  ceiling 
of  the  room  the  shadow  of  some  one  moving  to  and 
fro.  He  did  not  doubt  that  it  was  the  shadow  of 
his  wife,  as,  with  their  sick  babe  in  her  arms,  she 
walked  to  and  fro  in  the  effort  to  soothe  it  again  to 
sleep.  Had  there  been  a  doubt,  it  would  have  been 
quickly  dispelled,  for  there  came  to  his  ears  the  soft 
tones  of  a  voice  he  knew  full  well — came  in  tones 
of  music,  low  and  soothing,  but  with  most  touching 
sweetness.  It  was  the  voice  of  his  wife,  and  she 
sang  the  air  of  the  cradle-hymn  with  which  he  had 
been  soothed  to  rest  when  he  lay  an  innocent  babe 
in  his  mother's  arms. 

The  feelings  of  Wilkinson,  a  good  deal  excited  by 
the  struggle  between  affection  and  duty  on  the  one 


10  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


side,  and  appetite  and  inclination  on  the  other,  were 
touched  and  softened  by  the  incident,  and  he  was 
about  entering  his  house  when  the  approaching  form 
of  a  man,  a  short  distance  in  advance,  caught  his 
eye,  and  he  paused  until  he  came  up. 

"  Elbridge  !  The  very  one  I  wished  to  see  I"  he 
exclaimed,  in  a  low  voice,  as  he  extended  his  hand 
and  grasped  that  of  his  friend.  "  I've  just  been  to 
your  house.  Did  you  forget  that  I  was  to  call 
around  ?" 

"  I  didn't  understand  you  to  say,  certainly,  that 
you  would  call,  or  I  should  have  made  it  a  point  to 
be  at  home.  But  no  matter.  All  in  good  time. 
I'm  on  my  way  home  now,  and  you  will  please  re- 
turn with  me." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  "Wilkinson,  who 
could  not  forget  his  promise  to  his  wife.  "  I  told 
Mary,  when  I  went  out,  that  I  would  only  be  gone 
half  an  hour,  and  that  time  has  expired  already." 

"Oh,  never  mind,"  returned  the  other,  lightly. 
"  She'll  forgive  you,  I'll  be  bound.  Tell  her  that 
you  came  home,  in  all  obedience  to  her  wishes,  but 
that  I  met  you  at  your  own  door,  and  carried  you 
off  in  spite  of  yourself." 

And  as  Elbridge  said  this,  he  drew  his  arm  within 
that  of  Wilkinson,  and  the  two  men  went  chatting 
away. 

Elbridge  was  fond  of  good  wine,  and  always  kept 
a  few  choice  bottles  on  hand.  Wilkinson  knew  this; 


LOST  AND  WON.  11 


and,  if  he  had  looked  narrowly  into  his  heart  on  the 
present  occasion,  he  would  have  discovered  that  the 
wine  of  his  friend  had  for  him  a  stronger  attraction 
than  his  company. 

As  the  latter  had  anticipated,  wine  and  cigars 
were  produced  immediately  on  their  arrival  at  the 
house  of  Elbridge;  and  in  the  exhilaration  of  the 
one  and  the  fumes  of  the  other,  he  soon  forgot  his 
lonely,  troubled  wife  and  sick  child  at  home. 

A  friend  or  two  dropped  in,  in  the  course  of  half 
an  hour;  and  then  a  second  bottle  of  wine  was  un- 
corked, and  glasses  refilled  with  its  sparkling  con- 
tents. 

The  head  of  "Wilkinson  was  not  very  strong.  A 
single  glass  of  wine  generally  excited  him,  and  two 
or  three  proved,  always,  more  than  he  could  bear. 
It  was  so  on  this  occasion;  and  when,  at  eleven 
o'clock,  he  passed  forth  from  the  house  of  his  friend, 
it  was  only  by  an  effort  that  he  could  walk  steadily. 
The  cool  night  air,  as  it  breathed  upon  his  heated 
brow,  partially  sobered  him,  and  his  thoughts  turned 
towards  his  home.  A  sigh  and  the  act  of  striking 
his  hand  upon  his  forehead  marked  the  effect  of  this 
transition  of  thought. 

"  Poor  Mary !  I  didn't  mean  to  stay  away  so  late. 
I  meant  to  return  in  half  an  hour,"  he  muttered, 
half  aloud.  "But  this  is  always  the  way.  I'm 
afraid  I've  taken  too  much  of  Elbridge's  wine;  a 
little  affects  me.  I  wonder  if  Mary  will  notice  it; 


12  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


I  wouldn't  have  her  to  do  so  for  the  world.  Poor 
child !  it  would  frighten  her  to  death.  I  rather 
think  I'd  better  try  to  walk  off  the  effects  of  what 
I've  been  drinking.  It's  late,  any  how,  and  fifteen 
or  twenty  minutes  will  make  but  little  difference 
either  way." 

As  Wilkinson  said  this,  he  turned  down  a  cross 
street  which  he  happened  to  be  passing  at  the  mo- 
ment, and  moved  along  with  a  quicker  pace.  Gra- 
dually the  confusion  of  his  thoughts  subsided. 

"  I  wish  I  had  remained  at  home,"  he  sighed,  as 
the  image  of  his  wife  arose  distinctly  in  his  mind. 
"  Poor  Mary !  I  broke  my  word  with  her,  though  I 
promised  so  faithfully.  Oh,  dear !  this  weakness  on 
my  part  is  terrible.  Why  was  I  so  anxious  to  see 
Elbridge?  there  was  no  real  engagement,  and  yet  I 
told  Mary  there  was.  I  would  not  have  her  know 
of  this  deception  for  the  world.  I  forgot  about  dear 
little  Ella's  being  so  sick ;  what  if  we  should  lose 
that  little  angel  ?  Oh  !  I  could  not  bear  it !" 

Wilkinson  stopped  suddenly  as  this  thought  flashed 
over  his  mind.  He  was  soberer  by  far  than  when 
he  left  the  house  of  Mr.  Elbridge. 

"  I'll  go  home  at  once."  He  turned  and  began 
quickly  retracing  his  steps.  And  now  he  remem- 
bered the  moving  shadow  on  the  wall,  as  he  stood, 
nearly  three  hours  before,  in  front  of  his  house, 
debating  with  himself  whether  to  enter  or  no.  He 
heard  too,  in  imagination,  the  plaintive  cries  of  hia 


LOST   AND   WON.  '  13 


sick  child,  and  the  soothing  melody  of  its  mother's 
voice  as  she  sought  to  hush  into  sleep  its  unquiet 
spirit. 


CHAPTER  n. 

WILKINSON  was  nearly  in  front  of  his  own  door, 
when  he  was  thus  familiarly  accosted  by  a  man 
named  Ellis,  who  came  leisurely  walking  along  with 
a  lighted  cigar  in  his  mouth. 

"Hallo!  is  this  you,  Wilkinson ?  What  in  the 
name  of  wonder  are  you  doing  out  at  such  an 
hour?" 

"  And  suppose  I  were  to  ask  you  the  same  ques- 
tion?" inquired  Wilkinson,  as  he  took  the  hand  of 
the  other,  who  was  an  old  acquaintance. 

"  It  would  be  easily  answered,"  was  the  unhesi- 
tating reply  of  Ellis,  who  had  been  drinking  rather 
freely. 

"Well,  suppose  I  have  the  benefit  of  your  an- 
swer." 

"  You're  quite  welcome.  I  keep  no  secrets  from 
an  old  friend,  you  see.  Can't  you  guess?" 

"  I'm  not  good  at  guessing." 

"Had  a  little  tiff  with  Cara,"  said  Ellis  in  a 
half  whisper,  as  he  bent  to  the  ear  of  his  compa- 
nion. 

"  Oh,  no !"  returned  Wilkinson. 

m.— 2 


14  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


"  Fact.  Cara's  a  dear,  good  soul,  as  you  know; 
but  she's  a  self-willed  little  jade,  and  if  I  don't  do 
just  as  she  wants  me  to — if  I  don't  walk  her  chalk 
line — -presto  !  she  goes  off  like  a  rocket.  To-night, 
d'ye  see,  I  came  home  with  the  first  volume  of  Pres- 
cott's  new  work  on  Mexico — a  perfect  romance  of  a 
book,  and  wanted  to  read  it  aloud  to  Cara.  But 
no,  she  had  something  else  in  her  head,  and  told 
me,  up  and  down,  that  she  didn't  want  to  hear  any 
of  my  dull  old  histories.  I  got  mad,  of  course ;  I 
always  get  mad  when  she  comes  athwart  my  hawes 
in  this  way. 

"  '  Dull  old  histories !'  said  I,  indignantly. 
'  There's  more  true  life  and  real  interest  in  this 
book  than  in  all  the  Wandering  Jews  or  Laura 
Matilda  novels  that  ever  were  written ;  and  I  wish 
you'd  throw  such  miserable  trash  into  the  fire,  and 
read  books  from  which  to  get  some  intelligence  and 
strength  of  mind.'  Whew !  The  way  she  combed 
my  hair  for  me  at  this  was  curious.  I  am  a  philo- 
sopher, and  on  these  occasions  generally  repeat  to 
myself  the  wise  saw — 

1  He  that  fights  and  runs  away, 
May  live  to  fight  another  day.' 

So,  deeming  discretion  the  better  part  of  valour,  I 
retreated  in  disorder." 

"  That's  bad,"  remarked  Wilkinson,  who  knew 
something  of  the  character  of  his  friend's  wife. 


LOST  AND   WON.  15 


"  I  know  it's  bad;  but,  then,  I  can't  help  myself. 
Cara  has  such  a  queer  temper,  I  never  know  how  to 
take  her." 

"  You  ought  to  understand  her  peculiarities  by 
this  time,  and  bear  with  them." 

"  Bear  with  them !  I'd  like  to  see  you  have  the 
trial  for  a  while;  your  wife  is  an  angel.  Ah,  John ! 
you're  a  lucky  dog.  If  I  had  such  a  sweet-temper- 
ed woman  in  my  house,  I  would  think  it  a  very 
paradise." 

"  Hush !  hush  !  Harry;  don't  speak  in  that  way. 
Few  women  possess  so  many  good  qualities  as  Mrs. 
Ellis ;  and  it  is  your  duty  to  cherish  and  love  the 
good,  and  to  bear  with  the  rest." 

"  Well  preached ;  but,  as  I  am  to  apply  the  dis- 
course, and  not  you,  I  must  beg  to  be  excused." 

"  Good-night.  Go  home,  kiss  Cara,  and  forgive 
her,"  said  Wilkinson;  and  he  made  a  motion  to  pass 
on,  adding,  as  he  did  so,  "  I'm  out  much  later  than 
usual,  and  am  in  a  hurry  to  get  back.  Mary  will 
be  uneasy  about  me." 

But  Ellis  caught  hold  of  one  of  his  arms  with 
both  hands,  and  held  on  to  him. 

"  Can't  let  you  go,  Wilkinson,"  said  he,  firmly. 
"  You're  the  man  of  all  others  I  want  to  see — been 
thinking  about  you  all  the  evening ;  want  to  have  a 
long  talk  with  you." 

"Any  other  time,  but  not  now,"  replied  Wilkin- 
son. 


16  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

"  Now,  and  no  other  time,"  persisted  the  other, 
clinging  fast  to  his  arm. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  talk  about  ?"  said  "Wilkin- 
son, ceasing  his  effort  to  release  himself  from  the 
firm  grip  of  his  friend. 

"About  Cara,"  was  answered. 

"  Go  home  and  make  it  up  with  her ;  that's  the 
best  way.  She  loves  you,  and  you  love  her;  and 
your  love  will  settle  all  differences.  And  besides, 
Harry,  you  shouldn't  talk  about  these  things  to 
other  people.  The  relation  between  man  and  wife 
is  too  sacred  for  this." 

"  Do  you  think  I  talk  id  this  way  to  everybody  ? 
No,  indeed !"  responded  Ellis,  in  a  half-offended 
tone  of  voice.  "  But  you're  a  particular  friend. 
You  know  Cara's  peculiar  temper,  and  can  advise 
with  me  as  a  friend.  So  come  along,  I  want  to  have 
a  talk  with  you." 

"  Come  where  ?" 

Ellis  turned  and  pointed  to  a  brilliant  gas  lamp 
in  the  next  square,  that  stood  in  front  of  a  much- 
frequented  tavern. 

"No,  no;  I  must  go  home."  And  Wilkinson 
tried  to  extricate  himself  from  the  firm  grasp  of  his 
friend.  But  the  latter  tightened  his  hold,  as  he 
said — 

"  It's  of  no  use.  I  shall  not  let  you  go.  So 
come  along  with  me  to  Parker's.  Over  a  couple  of 
brandy  toddies  we  will  discuss  this  matter  of  Cara's." 


LOST   AND   WON.  17 


A  vigorous  jerk  from  the  hand  of  Ellis  gave  the 
body  of  Wilkinson  a  motion  in  the  direction  of  the 
tavern.  Had  his  mind  been  perfectly  clear — had 
none  of  the  effects  of  his  wine-drinking  at  Elbridge's 
remained,  he  would  have  resisted  to  the  end  this 
solicitation,  at  the  hour  and  under  the  circumstances. 
But  his  mind  was  not  perfectly  clear.  And  so,  a 
few  steps  being  taken  by  compulsion,  he  moved  on 
by  a  sort  of  constrained  volition. 

As  mentioned  above,  Wilkinson  had  nearly  reach- 
ed his  own  door  when  he  encountered  Ellis ;  was,  in 
fact,  so  near,  that  he  could  see  the  light  shining 
from  the  chamber-wir^ow  through  which,  some 
hours  before,  he  had  marked  on  the  wall  the  flitting 
shadow  of  his  wife,  as  she  walked  to  and  fro,  seek- 
ing to  soothe  into  slumber  her  sick  and  grieving 
child.  For  nearly  five  minutes,  he  had  stood  talk- 
ing with  his  friend,  and  the  sound  of  their  voices 
might  easily  have  been  heard  in  his  dwelling,  if  one 
had  been  listening  intently  there.  And  one  was 
listening  with  every  sense  strung  to  the  acutest  per- 
ception. Just  as  Wilkinson  moved  away,  an  ob- 
server would  have  seen  the  door  of  his  house  open, 
and  a  slender  female  form  bend  forth,  and  look 
earnestly  into  the  darkness.  A  moment  or  two,  she 
stood  thus,  and  then  stepped  forth  quickly,  and 
leaning  upon  the  iron  railing  of  the  door  steps,  fixed 
eagerly  her  eyes  upon  the  slowly  receding  forms  of 

the  two  men. 

2* 


18  THE    TWO    WIVES,   OR, 


"  John  !  John !"  she  called,  in  half  suppressed 
tones. 

But  her  voice  did  not  reach  the  ear  of  her  hus- 
band, whose  form  she  well  knew,  even  in  the  ob- 
scurity of  night. 

Gliding  down  the  steps,  Mrs.  Wilkinson  ran  a 
few  paces  along  the  pavement,  but  suddenly  stopped 
as  some  thought  passed  through  her  mind ;  and, 
turning,  went  back  to  the  door  she  had  left.  There 
she  stood  gazing  after  her  husband,  until  she  saw 
him  enter  the  tavern  mentioned  as  being  kept  by  a 
man  named  Parker,  when,  with  a  heavy,  fluttering 
sigh,  she  passed  into  the  house,  and  ascended  to  the 
chamber  from  which  she  had,  a  few  minutes  before, 
come  down. 

It  was  past  eleven  o'clock.  The  two  domestics 
had  retired,  and  Mrs.  Wilkinson  was  alone  with  her 
sick  child.  Ella's  moan  of  suffering  came  on  her 
ear  the  instant  she  re-entered  the  room,  and  she 
stepped  quickly  to  the  crib,  and  bent  over  to  look 
into  its  face.  The  cheeks  of  the  child  were  flushed 
with  fever  to  a  bright  crimson,  and  she  was  moving 
her  head  from  side  to  side,  and  working  her  lips  as 
if  there  was  something  in  her  mouth.  Slight 
twitching  motions  of  the  arms  and  hands  were  also 
noticed  by  the  mother.  Her  eyes  were  partly  open. 

"  Will  Ella  have  a  drink  of  water  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Wilkinson,  placing  her  hand  under  the  child's  head, 
and  slightly  raising  it  from  the  pillow. 


LOST   AND   WON.  19 


But  Ella  did  not  seem  to  hear. 

"  Say — love,  will  you  have  some  water  ?" 

There  was  no  sign  that  her  words  reached  the 
child's  ears. 

A  deeper  shade  of  trouble  than  that  which  al- 
ready rested  on  the  mother's  face  glanced  over  it.  ' 

"  Ella  !  Ella  I"  Mrs.  Wilkinson  slightly  shook 
the  child. 

The  only  response  was  the  muttering  of  some  in- 
coherent words,  and  a  continued  moaning  as  if  pain 
were  disturbing  her  sleep. 

The  mother  now  bent  low  over  her  child,  and 
eagerly  marked  the  expression  of  her  face  and  the 
character  of  her  breathing.  Then  she  laid  a  hand 
upon  her  cheek.  Instantly  it  W;as  withdrawn  with 
a  quick  start,  but  as  quickly  replaced  again. 

"  What  a  burning  fever  I"  she  murmured.  Then 
she  added,  in  a  tone  of  anxiety, 

"  How  strangely  she  works  her  mouth  !  I  don't 
like  this  constant  rolling  of  her  head.  What  can 
it  mean?  Ella!  Ella!" 

And  she  shook  the  child  again. 

"  Want  some  water,  love  ?" 

The  mother's  voice  did  not  appear  to  reach  the 
locked  sense  of  hearing. 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  now  lifted  a  glass  of  water  from 
the  bureau  near  by,  and  raising  the  head  of  Ella 
with  one  hand,  applied,  with  the  other,  the  water 
to  her  lips.  About  a  table-spoonful  was  poured 


20  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

into  her  mouth.  It  was  not  swallowed,  but  ran  out 
upon  the  pillow. 

"  Mercy  !  mercy !  what  can  ail  the  child  !"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Wilkinson,  a  look  of  fear  coming  into 
her  face. 

A  little  while  she  stood  over  her,  and  then  leaving 
her  place  beside  the  crib,  she  hurried  out  into  the 
passage,  and,  pausing  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs 
leading  to  the  room  above,  called  several  times — 

"  Anna  !  Anna !  Anna  !" 

But  no  answer  came.  The  domestic  thus  sum- 
moned had  fallen  into  her  first  sound  sleep,  and 
the  voice  did  not  penetrate  her  ears. 

"  Anna  I"  once  more  called  Mrs.  Wilkinson. 

There  was  no  response,  but  the  reverberation  of 
her  own  voice  returned  upon  the  oppressive  silence. 
She  now  hurried  back  to  her  sick  child,  whose  low, 
troubled  moaning  had  not  been  hushed  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

There  was  no  apparent  change.  Ella  lay  with 
her  half-opened  eyes,  showing,  by  the  white  line, 
that  the  balls  were  turned  up  unnaturally ;  with  her 
crimsoned  cheeks,  and  with  the  nervous  motions  of 
her  lips  and  slight  twitchings  of  her  hands,  at  first 
noticed  with  anxiety  and  alarm. 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  was  but  little  familiar  with  sick- 
ness in  children;  and  knew  not  the  signs  of  real 
danger — or,  rather,  what  unusual  signs  such  as 
those  now  apparent  in  Ella  really  indicated.  But 


LOST   AND   WON.  21 


she  was  sufficiently  alarmed,  and  stood  over  the  child, 
with  her  eyes  fixed  eagerly  upon  her. 

Again  she  tried  to  arouse  her  from  so  strange  and 
unnatural  a  state,  but  with  as  little  effect  as  at  first. 

"  Oh,  my  husband !"  she  at  length  exclaimed, 
clasping  her  hands  together,  and  glancing  upward, 
with  tearful  eyes,  "  why  are  you  away  from  me 
now  ?  Oh,  why  did  you  break  your  promise  to  re- 
turn hours  and  hours  ago  ?" 

Then  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  sobbed 
and  wept,  until,  startled  by  a  sharp,  unnatural  cry 
from  the  lips  of  Ella,  her  attention  was  once  more 
fixed  upon  her  suffering  child. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  Now,  what  will  you  take  ?"  said  Henry  Ellis, 
as  he  entered,  with  the  weak  and  yielding  Wilkinson, 
the  bar-room  of  Parker's  tavern. 

"Any  thing  you  choose  to  call  for/'  replied  Wil- 
kinson, whose  mind  was  turning  homeward,  and  who 
wished  to  be  there.  "  In  fact,  I  don't  really  want 
any  thing.  Call  for  two  glasses  of  cold  water.  These 
will  leave  our  heads  clear." 

"  Water !  Ha  !  ha !  That  is  a  good  one,  Bill !" 
— and  Ellis  spoke  to  the  bar-tender — "Mix  us  a 
couple  of  stiff  brandy  toddies." 


22  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


The  bar-tender  nodded  and  smiled  his  acceptance 
of  the  order,  and  the  two  men  retired  to  a  table  that 
stood  in  a  remote  part  of  the  room,  at  which  they 
were  soon  served  with  the  liquor. 

"  Bill  mixes  the  best  brandy  toddy  I  ever  tasted. 
He  knows  his  business,"  said  Ellis,  as  he  put  the 
glass  to  his  lips.  "  Isn't  it  fine  ?" 

"It  is  very  good,"  replied  Wilkinson,  as  he  sipped 
the  tempting  mixture. 

But  his  thoughts  were  turning  homeward,  and  he 
scarcely  perceived  the  taste  of  what  he  drank. 
Suddenly,  he  pushed  the  glass  from  him,  and, 
making  a  motion  to  rise  from  the  table,  said — 

"Indeed,  Ellis,  I  must  go  home.  My  child  is 
sick,  and  Mary  will  be  distressed  at  my  absence. 
Come  around  to  my  store,  to-morrow,  and  we  will 
talk  this  matter  over.  Neither  you  nor  I  are  now 
in  a  fit  state  to  discuss  so  grave  a  matter." 

"  Sit  down,  will  you  !" 

This  was  the  reply  of  Ellis,  as  he  caught  quickly 
the  arm  of  his  friend,  and  almost  forced  him,  by  main 
strength,  to  resume  his  seat. 

"  There,  now,"  he  added,  as  Wilkinson  resumed  his 
seat.  "  Never  put  off  until  to-morrow  what  can  as  well 
be  done  to-day.  That  is  my  motto.  I  want  to  talk  with 
you  about  Cara,  and  no  time  is  so  good  as  the  present." 

"Well,  well,"  returned  Wilkinson,  impatiently. 
"  What  do  you  want  to  say  ?  Speak  quickly,  and 
to  the  point." 


LOST  AND  WON.  23 


"  Just  what  I'm  going  to  do.  But,  first,  I  must 
see  the  bottom  of  my  tumbler.  There,  now;  come, 
you  must  do  the  same.  Drink  to  good  old  times, 
and  eternal  friendship — drink,  my  fast  and  faithful 
friend !" 

The  warmth  of  the  room  and  the  quick  effects  of 
a  strong  glass  of  brandy  toddy  were  making  rapid 
advances  on  Ellis's  partial  state  of  inebriety. 

Wilkinson  emptied  his  glass,  and  then  said — 

"Speak,  now,  I'm  all  attention." 

Well,  you  see,  Jack,"  and  Ellis  leaned  over  to- 
wards Wilkinson  familiarly,  and  rested  his  arm  upon 
his  knee.  You  see,  Jack,  that  huzzy  of  mine — if  I 
must  call  the  dear  girl  by  such  a  name — is  leading 
me  the  deuce  of  a  life.  Confound  her  pretty  face  ! 
I  love  her,  and  would  do  almost  any  thing  to  please 
her;  but  she  won't  be  pleased  at  any  thing.  She 
combs  my  head  for  me  as  regularly  as  the  day 
comes." 

"  Hush — hush  !  Don't  talk  so  of  Cara.  Her 
temper  may  be  a  little  uncertain,  but  that  is  her 
weakness.  She  is  your  wife,  and  you  must  bear 
with  these  things.  It  isn't  manly  in  you  to  be  vexed 
at  every  trifle." 

"  Trifle  !  Humph  !  I'd  like  you  to  have  a  week 
of  my  experience.  You  wouldn't  talk  any  more 
about  trifles." 

"You  should  humour  her  a  great  deal,  Harry. 
I  am  not  so  sure  that  you  are  not  quite  as  much 


24  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


to  blame  for  these  differences  and  fallings  out  as 
she  is." 

"  I  wasn't  to  blame  to-night,  I  am  sure.  Didn't 
I  bring  home  Prescott,  thinking  that  she  would  be 
delighted  to  have  me  sit  the  evening  with  her  and 
read  so  charming  an  author  ?  But,  at  the  very  pro- 
position, she  flared  up,  and  said  she  didn't  want  to 
hear  my  musty  old  histories.  Humph !  A  nice 
way  to  make  a  man  love  his  home.  Better  for  her 
and  me,  too,  I'm  thinking,  that  she  had  listened-  to 
the  history,  and  kept  her  husband  by  her  side." 

"  And  for  me,  too,"  thought  Wilkinson.  "  I  should 
now,  at  least,  be  at  home  with  my  loving-hearted 
wife.  Ah,  me !" 

"Now,  what  am  I  to  do,  Jack — say  ?  Give  me  your 
advice." 

"  The  first  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  go  home,  and 
to  go  at  once.  Come  !" 

And  Wilkinson  made  another  effort  to  rise;  but 
the  hand  of  Ellis  bore  him  down. 

"  Stay,  stay  !"  he  muttered,  impatiently.  "Now 
don't  be  in  such  a  confounded  hurry.  Can't  you 
talk  with  an  old  friend  for  a  minute  or  so  ?  Look 
here,  I've  been  thinking — let  me  see — what  was  I 
going  to  say  ?" 

The  mind  of  Ellis  was  growing  more  and  more  con- 
fused; nor  was-  the  head  of  Wilkinson  so  clear  as  when 
he  entered  the  bar-room.  The  strong  glass  of  brandy- 
toddy  was  doing  its  work  on  both  of  them. 


LOST   AND   WON.  25 


"  Let  me  see,"  went  on  Ellis,  in  a  wandering  way. 
"  I  was  speaking  of  Cara — oh,  yes,  of  Cara.  Bless  her 
heart,  but  confound  her  crooked  temper  !  Now,  what 
would  you  advise  me  to  do,  my  old  friend  ?" 

"  Go  home,  I  have  said,"  replied  Wilkinson. 

"  And  get  my  head  combed  with  a  three-legged 
stool  ?  No,  blast  me  if  I  do  !  I've  stayed  out  this 
long  just  to  make  her  sensible  of  her  unkindness  to 
one  of  the  best  of  husbands — and  I'm  not  going  home 
until  I  am  dead  drunk.  I  guess  that'll  bring  her 
to  her  bearings.  Ha  !  Don't  you  think  so,  Jack  ?" 

"  Good  heavens !"  was  just  at  this  instant  ex- 
claimed by  one  of  the  inmates  of  the  bar-room,  in  a 
low,  startled  tone  of  voice. 

"  Your  wife,  as  I  live  !"  fell  from  the  lips  of  Ellis, 
whose  face  was  turned  towards  the  entrance  of  the 
bar-room. 

Wilkinson  sprang  to  his  feet.  Just  within  the 
door  stood  a  female  form,  her  head  uncovered,  her 
slender  person  clad  in  a  white  wrapper,  and  her  face 
as  colourless  as  the  dress  she  wore.  There  was  a 
wild,  frightened  look  in  her  staring  eyes. 

"  Is  Mr.  Wilkinson  here  ?"  she  asked,  just  as  her 
husband's  eyes  rested  upon  her,  and  her  thrilling 
voice  reached  his  ears. 

With  a  bound,  Wilkinson  was  at  her  side. 

"  Oh,  John  !  John  !"  she  cried,  in  a  voice  of  an- 
guish. "  Come  home  !  Come  quick  !  Our  dear 
little  Ella  is  dying  !" 

III.-3 


26  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


An  instant  more,  and,  to  the  inmates  of  the 
bar-room,  the  curtain  fell  upon  that  startling  scene; 
for  Wilkinson  and  his  wife  vanished  almost  as 
suddenly  as  if  they  had  sunk  together  through  the 
floor. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

,  DURING  the  day  on  which  our  story  opened,  Henry 
Ellis  had  obtained  from  a  friend  the  first  volume  of 
Prescott's  History  of  Mexico,  then  just  from  the 
press.  An  hour's  perusal  of  its  fascinating  pages 
awakened  in  his  mind  a  deep  interest. 

"  Just  the  book  to  read  to  Cara,"  said  he  to  him- 
self, closing  the  volume,  and  laying  it  aside.  "She's 
too  much  taken  up  with  mere  fiction.  But  here  is 
that  truth  which  is  stranger  than  fiction ;  and  I  am 
sure  she  will  soon  get  absorbed  in  the  narrative." 

With  his  new  book,  and  this  pleasant  thought  in 
his  mind,  Ellis  took  his  way  homeward,  after  the 
business  of  the  day  was  over.  As  he  walked  along, 
a  friend  overtook  him,  and  said,  familiarly,  as  he 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder, 

"  I'm  glad  to  overhaul  you  so  opportunely.  Half 
a  dozen  times,  to-day,  I  have  been  on  the  eve  of 
running  round  to  see  you,  but  as  often  was  pre- 
vented. All  in  good  time  yet,  I  hope.  I  want  you 
to  come  over  to  my  room,  this  evening.  There  are 


LOST  AND  WON.  27 


to  be  three  or  four  of  our  friends  there,  and  some 
good  eating  and  drinking  into  the  bargain." 

"  A  temptation  certainly,"  replied  Ellis.  "  No 
man  likes  good  company  better  than  I  do ;  but,  I 
rather  think  I  must  forego  the  pleasure  this  time." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?" 

"  I've  promised  myself  another  pleasure." 

"  Another  engagement  ?" 

"  Not  exactly  that.  Barker  has  loaned  me  the 
first  volume  of  Prescott's  Mexico ;  and  I'm  going  to 
spend  the  evening  in  reading  it  to  my  wife." 

"Any  other  evening  will  do  as  well  for  that," 
returned  the  friend.  "  So  promise  me  to  come 
around.  I  can't  do  without  you." 

"Sorry  to  disappoint  you,"  said  Ellis,  firmly. 
"  But,  when  I  once  get  my  mind  fixed  on  a  thing,  I 
am  hard  to  change." 

"  Perhaps  your  wife  may  have  some  engagement 
on  hand,  for  the  evening,  or  be  disinclined  for  read- 
ing. What  then  ?" 

"  You  will  see  me  at  your  room,"  was  the  prompt 
answer  of  Ellis ;  and  the  words  were  uttered  with 
more  feeling  than  he  had  intended  to  exhibit.  The 
very  question  brought  unpleasant  images  before  his 
mind. 

"  I  shall  look  for  you,"  said  the  friend,  whose 
uame  was  Jerome.  "  Good  evening  !" 

"  Good  evening !  Say  to  your  friends,  if  I  should 
not  be  there,  that  I  am  in  better  company." 


28  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

The  two  men  parted,  and  Ellis  kept  on  his  way 
homeward.  Not  until  the  suggestion  of  Jerome 
that  his  wife  might  be  disinclined  to  hear  him  read, 
did  a  remembrance  of  Cara's  uncertain  temper  throw 
a  shade  across  his  feelings.  He  sighed  as  he  moved 
onward. 

"  I  wish  she  were  kinder  and  more  considerate," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  I  know  that  I  don't  always 
do  right ;  yet,  I  am  not  by  any  means  so  bad  as  she 
sometimes  makes  me  out.  To  any  thing  reasonable, 
I  am  always  ready  to  yield.  But  when  she  frowns 
if  I  light  a  cigar ;  and  calls  me  a  tippler  whenever 
she  detects  the  smell  of  brandy  and  water,  I  grow 
angry  and  stubborn.  Ah,  me  !" 

Ellis  sighed  heavily.  A  little  way  he  walked  on, 
and  then  began  communing  with  himself. 

"  I  don't  know" — he  went  on — "  but,  may  be,  I 
do  take  a  little  too  much  sometimes.  I  rather  think 
I  must  have  been  drinking  too  freely  when  I  came 
home  last  week :  by  the  way  Cara  talked,  and  by  the 
way  she  acted  for  two  or  three  days  afterwards. 
There  may  be  danger.  Perhaps  there  is.  My  head 
isn't  very  strong ;  and  it  doesn't  take  much  to  affect 
me.  I  wish  Cara  wouldn't  speak  to  me  as  she  does 
sometimes.  I  can't  bear  it.  Twice  within  the  last 
month,  she  has  fairly  driven  me  off  to  spend  my 
evening  in  a  tavern,  when  I  would  much  rather  have 
been  at  home.  Ah,  me !  It's  a  great  mistake. 
And  Cara  may  find  it  out,  some  day,  to  her  sorrow. 


LOST   AND   WON.  29 


I  like  a  glass  of  brandy,  now  and  then ;  but  I'm  not 
quite  so  far  gone  that  I  must  have  it  whether  or  no. 
I'm  foolish,  I  will  own,  to  mind  her  little,  pettish, 
fretful  humours.  I  ought  to  be  more  of  a  man  than 
I  am.  But,  I  didn't  make  myself,  and  can't  help 
feeling  annoyed,  and  sometimes  angry,  when  she  is 
unkind  and  unreasonable.  Going  off  to  a  tavern 
don't  mend  the  matter,  I'll  admit ;  but,  when  I  leave 
the  house,  alone,  after  nightfall,  and  in  a  bad 
humour,  it  is  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world 
for  me  to  seek  the  pleasant  company  of  some  of  my 
old  friends — and  I  generally  know  where  to  find 
them." 

Such  was  the  state  of  mind  in  which  Ellis  re- 
turned home. 

A  word  or  two  will  give  the  reader  a  better  idea 
of  the  relation  which  Henry  Ellis  and  his  wife  bore 
to  each  other  and  society.  They  had  been  married 
about  six  years,  and  had  three  children,  the  oldest 
a  boy,  and  the  other  two  girls.  Ellis  kept  a  retail 
dry-goods  store,  in  a  small  way.  His  capital  was 
limited,  and  his  annual  profits,  therefore,  but  light. 
The  consequence  was,  that,  in  'all  his  domestic 
arrangements,  the  utmost  frugality  had  to  be  ob- 
served. He  was  a  man  of  strict  probity,  with  some 
ambition  to  get  ahead  in  the  world.  These  made 
him  careful  and  economical  in  his  expenditures,  both 
at  home  and  in  the  management  of  his  business. 
As  a  man,  he  was  social  in  his  feelings,  but  inclined 

3* 


30  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


to  be  domestic.  While  unmarried,  he  had  lived 
rather  a  gay  life,  and  formed  a  pretty  large  acquaint- 
ance among  young  men.  His  associations  led  him 
into  the  pretty  free  use  of  intoxicating  drinks ;  but 
the  thought  of  becoming  a  slave  of  a  vicious  ap- 
petite never  once  crossed  his  mind  with  its  warning 
shadow. 

The  first  trial  of  Henry  Ellis's  married  life  was 
the  imperative  necessity  that  required  him  to  lay  a 
restraining  hand  upon  his  wife's  disposition  to  spend 
money  more  freely  than  was  justified  by  their  cir- 
cumstances. He  had  indulged  her  for  the  period 
of  a  whole  year,  and  the  result  was  so  heavy  a  ba- 
lance against  his  expense  account,  that  he  became 
anxious  and  troubled.  There  must  be  a  change*,  or 
his  business  would  be  crippled,  and  ultimate  ruin 
follow.  As  gently  as  he  could,  Ellis  brought  the 
attention  of  his  wife  to  this  matter.  But,  she  could 
not  comprehend,  to  its  full  extent,  the  point  he 
urged.  It  then  became  necessary  for  Ellis  to  hold 
the  purse-strings  more  tightly  than  he  had  formerly 
done.  This  fretted  the  mind  of  his  wife,  and  often 
led  her,  in  the  warmth  of  the  moment  of  disappoint- 
ment, to  utter  unkind  expressions.  These  hurt 
Ellis ;  and,  sometimes,  made  him  angry.  The  cloud 
upon  Cara's  brow,  consequent  upon  these  occasional 
misunderstandings,  was  generally  so  unpleasant  to 
Ellis,  whose  heart  was  ever  wooing  the  sunshine,  let 
the  rays  come  through  almost  any  medium,  that  he 


LOST  AND   WON^  31 


would  spend  his  evenings  abroad.  Temptation,  as  a 
natural  consequence,  was  in  his  way.  His  convivial 
character  made  him  seek  the  company  of  these  who 
do  not  always  walk  the  safest  paths.  How  anxious 
should  be  the  wife  of  such  a  husband  to  keep  him 
at  home ;  how  light  the  task  would  have  been  for 
Cara.  Alas !  that  she  was  so  selfish,  so  self-willed 
—so  blind  !  The  scene  that  occurred  on  the  evening 
of  Ellis's  return  home  with  the  book  he  wished  to 
read  for  his  wife,  will  give  a  fair  view  of  Mrs.  Ellis's 
manner  of  reacting  upon  her  husband;  and  his 
mode  of  treating  her  on  such  occasions. 

It  has  been  seen  in  what  state  of  feeling  the  hus- 
band returned  home.  Remembrances  of  the  past 
brought  some  natural  misgivings  to  his  mind.  His 
face,  therefore,  wore  rather  a  more  subdued  expres- 
sion than  usual.  Still,  he  was  in  a  tolerably  cheer- 
ful frame  of  mind — in  fact,  he  was  never  moody. 
To  his  great  relief,  Cara  met  him  with  a  smile,  and 
seemed  to  be  in  an  unusually  good  humour.  Their 
sweet  babe  was  lying  asleep  on  her  lap;  and  his 
other  two  children  were  playing  about  the  room. 
Instantly  the  sunshine  fell  warmly  again  on  the 
heart  of  Ellis.  He  kissed  mother  and  children  fer- 
vently, and  with  a  deep  sense  of  love. 

"  I  called  to  see  the  bride  this  afternoon,"  said 
Mrs.  Ellis,  soon  after  her  husband  came  in. 

"Ah,  did  you?"  he  answered.  "At  her  new 
home?" 


32  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


"Yes." 

"  She  is  well  and  happy,  of  course  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  happy  as  the  day  is  long.  How  could 
she  help  being  so  in  such  a  little  paradise  ?" 

"  Love  makes  every  spot  a  paradise/'  said  Ellis. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,"  replied  the  wife,  with  some 
change  in  her  tone  of  voice.  "  I'm  no  believer  in 
that  doctrine.  I  want  something  more  than  love. 
External  things  are  of  account  in  the  matter;  and 
of  very  considerable  account." 

"  They  have  every  thing  very  handsome,  of 
course,"  said  Ellis  ;  who  was  generally  wise  enough 
not  to  enter  into  a  discussion  with  his  wife  on  sub- 
jects of  this  kind. 

"  Oh,  perfect  I"  replied  his  wife,  "  perfect !  I 
never  saw  a  house  furnished  with  so  much  taste.  I 
declare  it  has  put  me  half  out  of  conceit  with  things 
at  home.  Oh,  dear  !  how  common  every  thing  did 
look  when  I  returned." 

"You  must  remember  that  our  furniture  has 
been  in  use  for  about  six  years,"  said  Ellis ;  "  and, 
moreover,  that  it  was  less  costly  than  your  friend's, 
in  the  beginning.  Her  husband  and  your's  are  in 
different  circumstances." 

"  I  know  all  about  that,"  was  returned,  with  a  toss 
of  the  head.  "  I  know  that  we  are  dreadfully  poor, 
and  can  hardly  get  bread  for  our  children. 

"We  are  certainly  not  able  to  furnish  as  hand- 
somely as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Beaumont.  There  is  no  de- 


LOST   AND   WON.  33 


nying  that,  Cara.  Still,  we  are  able  to  have  every 
real  comfort  of  life ;  and  therewith  let  us  try  to  be 
content.  To  desire  what  we  cannot  possess,  will 
only  make  us  unhappy." 

"  You  needn't  preach  to  me,"  retorted  Mrs.  Ellis, 
her  face  slightly  flushing.  "  When  I  want  to  hear 
a  sermon,  I'll  go  to  church." 

Mr.  Ellis  made  no  answer,  but,  lifting  his  babe 
from  its  mother's  lap,  commenced  tossing  it  in  the 
air  and  singing  a  pleasant  nursery  ditty.  Caroline 
sat  in  a  moody  state  of  mind  for  some  minutes, 
and  then  left  the  room  to  give  some  directions  about 
tea.  On  her  return,  Ellis  said,  in  as  cheerful  a  voice 
as  if  no  unpleasant  incident  had  transpired, 

"  Oh !  I  had  forgotten  to  say,  Cara,  that  Mr. 
Hemming  and  his  wife  have  returned  from  Boston. 
They  will  be  around  to  see  us  some  evening  this 
week." 

"  Hum-m — well."  This  was  the  cold,  moody  re- 
sponse of  Mrs.  Ellis. 

"Mr.  Hemming  says  that  his  wife's  health  is 
much  better  than  it  was." 

"  Does  he  ?"  very  coldly  uttered. 

"  He  seemed  very  cheerful." 

Mrs.  Ellis  made  no  comment  upon  this  remark  of 
her  husband,--and  the  latter  said  nothing  more. 

Tea  was  soon  announced,  and  the  husband  and 
wife  went,  with  their  two  oldest  children,  to  partake 
of  their  evening  meal.  A  cloud  still  hung  over 


84  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


Caroline's  features.  Try  as  Ellis  would  to  feel  in- 
different to  his  wife's  unhappy  state  of  mind,  his 
sensitiveness  to  the  fact  became  more  and  more 
painful  every  moment.  The  interest  at  first  felt  in 
his  children,  gradually  died  away,  and,  by  the  time 
supper  was  over,  he  was  in  a  moody  and  fretted 
state,  yet  had  he  manfully  striven  to  keep  his  mind 
evenly  balanced. 

On  returning  to  the  sitting-room,  the  sight  of 
the  book  he  had  brought  home  caused  Ellis  to  make 
a  strong  effort  to  regain  his  self-possession.  He  had 
set  his  heart  on  reading  that  book  to  Cara,  because 
he  was  sure  she  would  get  interested  therein ;  and 
he  hoped,  by  introducing  this  better  class  of  reading, 
to  awaken  a  healthier  appetite  for  mental  food  than 
she  now  possessed.  So  he  occupied  himself  with  a 
newspaper,  while  his  wife  undressed  the  children 
and  put  them  to  bed.  It  seemed  to  him  a  long 
time  before  she  was  ready  to  sit  down  with  her  sew- 
ing at  the  table,  upon  which  the  soft,  pleasant  light 
of  their  shaded  lamp  was  falling.  At  last  she  came, 
with  her  small  work-basket  in  her  hand.  Topmost 
of  all  its  contents  was  a  French  novel.  When  Ellis 
saw  this,  there  came  doubts  and  misgivings  across 
his  heart. 

"  Cara,"  said  he  quickly,  and  in  a  tone  of  forced 
cheerfulness,  taking  up,  at  the  same  time,  his  volume 
of  Prescott, — "  I  brought  this  book  home  on  purpose 
to  read  aloud.  I  dipped  into  it,  to-day,  and  found  it 


LOST  AND   WON.  35 


BO  exceedingly  interesting,  that  I  deferred  the 
pleasure  of  its  perusal  until  I  could  share  it  with 
you." 

Now,  under  all  the  circumstances,  it  cost  Ellis 
considerable  effort  to  appear  cheerful  and  interested, 
while  saying  this. 

"What  book  is  it?"  returned  Cara,  in  a  chilling 
tone,  while  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  husband's 
face,  with  any  thing  but  a  look  of  love. 

"  The  first  volume  of  Prescott's  History  of  Mexico, 
one  of  the  most  charming" — 

"  Pho  !  I  don't  want  to  hear  your  dull  old  his- 
tories !"  said  Cara,  with  a  contemptuous  toss  of  the 
head. 

"  Dull  old  histories  I"  retorted  Ellis,  whose  pa- 
tience was  now  gone.  "  Dull  old  histories !  You 
don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  There's 
more  real  interest  in  this  book  than  in  all  the 
French  novels  that  ever  were  invented  to  turn  silly 
women's  heads." 

Of  course,  Mrs.  Ellis  "fired  up"  at  this.  She 
was  just  at  the  right  point  of  ignition  to  blaze  out 
at  a  single  breath  of  reproof.  We  will  not  repeat 
the  cutting  language  she  used  to  her  husband. 
Enough,  that,  in  the  midst  of  the  storm  that  followed, 
Ellis  started  up,  and  bowing,  with  mock  ceremony, 
said —  • 

"  I  wish  you  good  evening,  madam.  And  may  I 
see  you  in  a  better  humour  when  we  meet  again." 


36  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


A  moment  afterwards,  and  Caroline  was  alone 
with  her  own  perturbed  feelings  and  unpleasant, 
self-rebuking  thoughts.  Still,  she  could  not  help 
muttering,  as  a  kind  of  justification  of  her  own 
conduct — 

"A  perfect  Hotspur!  It's  rather  hard  that  a 
woman  can't  speak  to  her  husband,  but  he  must 
fling  himself  off  in  this  way.  Why  didn't  he  read 
his  history,  if  it  was  so  very  interesting,  and  let  me 
alone.  I  don't  care  about  such  things,  and  he 
knows  it." 

After  this,  Mrs.  Ellis  fell  into  a  state  of  deep  and 
gloomy  abstraction  of  mind.  Many  images  of  the 
past  came  up  to  view,  and,  among  them,  some  that  it 
was  by  no  means  pleasant  to  look  upon.  This  was 
not  the  first  time  that  her  husband  had  gone  off  in 
a  pet ;  but  in  no  instance  had  he  come  home  with  a 
mind  as  clear  as  when  he  left  her.  A  deep  sigh 
heaved  the  wife's  bosom  as  she  remembered  this ; 
and,  for  some  moments,  she  suffered  from  keen  self- 
reproaches.  But,  an  accusing  spirit  quickly  oblite- 
rated this  impression.  In  her  heart  she  wrote  many 
bitter  things  against  her  husband,  and  magnified 
habits  and  peculiarities  into  serious  faults. 

Poor,  unhappy  wife  !  How  little  did  she  compre- 
hend the  fact  that  her  husband's  feet  were  near  the 
brink,  of  a  precipice,  and  that  a  fearful  abyss  of  ruin 
was  below ;  else  would  she  have  drawn  him  lovingly 
back,  instead  of  driving  him  onward  to  destruction. 


LOST  AND  WON.  37 


CHAPTER  V. 

ELLIS,  excited  and  angry,  not  only  left  his  wife's 
presence,  but  the  house.  Repulsed  by  one  pole,  he 
felt  the  quick  attraction  of  another.  Not  a  moment 
did  he  hesitate,  on  gaining  the  street,  but  turned  his 
steps  toward  the  room  of  Jerome,  where  a  party  of 
gay  young  men  were  to  assemble  for  purposes  of 
conviviality. 

We  will  not  follow  him  thither,  nor  describe  the 
manner  of  his  reception.  We  will  not  picture  the 
scene  of  revelry,  nor  record  the  coarse  jests  that 
some  of  the  less  thoughtful  of  the  company  ventured 
to  make  on  the  appearance  of  Ellis  in  their  midst — 
for,  to  most  of  his  friends,  it  was  no  secret  that  his 
wife's  uncertain  temper  often  caused  him  to  leave 
his  home  in  search  of  more  congenial  companionship. 
Enough,  that  at  eleven  o'clock,  Ellis  left  the  house 
of  Jerome,  much  excited  by  drink. 

The  pure,  cool  night  air,  as  it  bathed  the  heated 
temples  of  Henry  Ellis,  so  far  sobered  him  by  the 
time  he  reached  his  own  door,  that  a  distant  remem- 
brance of  what  had  occurred  early  in  the  evening 
was  present  to  his  thoughts ;  and,  still  beyond  this, 
a  remembrance  of  how  he  had  been  received  on  re- 
turning at  a  late  hour  in  times  gone  by.  His  hand 

was  in  his  pocket,  in  search  of  his  dead-lateh  key, 
in.— 4 


38  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OK, 


when  he  suddenly  retreated  from  the  door,  muttering 
to  himself — 

"  I'm  not  going  to  stand  a  curtain  lecture  !  There 
now  !  I'll  wait  until  she's  asleep." 

Saying  which,  he  drew  a  cigar  and  match-box 
from  his  pocket,  and  lighting  the  former,  placed  it 
between  his  lips,  and  moved  leisurely  down  the 
street. 

The  meeting  with  Wilkinson  has  already  been  de- 
scribed. 

Scarcely  less  startled  was  Ellis  at  the  sudden  ap- 
parition of  Mrs.  Wilkinson  than  her  husband  had 
been.  He  remained  only  a  few  moments  after  they 
retired.  Then  he  turned  his  steps  again  homeward, 
with  a  clearer  head  and  heavier  heart  than  when  he 
refused  to  enter,  in  fear  of  what  he  called  a  "  curtain 
lecture." 

Many  painful  thoughts  flitted  through  his  mind 
as  he  moved  along  with  a  quick  pace. 

"  I  wish  Cara  understood  me  better,  or  that  I  had 
more  patience  with  her,"  he  said  to  himself.  "This 
getting  angry  \vith  her,  and  going  off  to  drinking 
parties  and  taverns  is  a  bad  remedy  for  the  evil,  I 
will  confess.  It  is  wrong  in  me,  I  know.  Very 
wrong.  But  I  can't  bear  to  be  snapped,  and  snubbed 
up,  and  lectured  in  season  and  out  of  season.  I'm 
only  flesh  and  blood.  Oh  dear !  I'm  afraid  evil 
will  come  of  it  in  the  end.  Poor  Wilkinson  !  What 
.a  shock  the  appearance  of  his  wife  must  have  given 


LOST  AND   WON.  '       39 


him  !  It  set  every  nerve  in  my  body  to  quivering. 
And  it  was  all  my  fault  that  he  wasn't  at  home  with 
his  watching  wife  and  sick  child.  Ah  me  !  How 
one  wrong  follows  another !" 

Ellis  had  reached  his  own  door.  Taking  out  his 
night-key,  he  applied  it  to  the  latch  ;  but  the  door 
did  not  open.  It  had  been  locked. 

"  Locked  out,  ha  \"  he  ejaculated  quickly,  and 
with  a  feeling  of  anger.  His  hand  was  instantly  on 
the  bell-pull,  and  he  jerked  it  three  or  four  times 
vigorously;  the  loud  and  continued  ringing  of  the 
bell  sounding  in  his  ears  where  he  stood  on  the  door- 
step without.  A  little  while  he  waited,  and  then 
the  ringing  was  renewed,  and  with  a  more  prolonged 
violence  than  at  first.  Then  he  listened,  bending 
his  ear  close  to  the  door.  But  he  could  detect  no 
movement  in  the  house. 

"  Confound  it !"  came  sharp  and  impatiently  from 
his  lips.  "  If  I  thought  this  was  designed,  I'd" — 

He  checked  himself,  for  just  at  that  instant  he 
saw  a  faint  glimmer  of  light  through  the  glass  over 
the  door.  Then  he  perceived  the  distant  shuffle  of 
feet  along  the  passage  floor.  There  was  a  fumbling 
at  the  key  and  bolts,  and  then  the  half-asleep  .and 
half-awake  servant  admitted  him. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  was  out,  sir,"  said  the  ser- 
vant, "  or  I  wouldn't  have  locked  the  door  when  I 
went  to  bed." 

Ellis  made  no  reply,  but  entered  and  ascended  to 


40  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


his  chamber.  Cara  was  in  bed  and  asleep,  or  appa- 
rently so.  Her  husband  did  not  fail  to  observe  a 
certain  unsteady  motion  of  the  lashes  that  lay  over 
her  closed  eyes ;  and  he  was  not  far  wrong  in  his 
impression  that  she  was  awake,  and  had  heard  his 
repeated  ringing  for  admission.  His  belief  that 
such  was  the  case  did  not  lessen  the  angry  feelings 
produced  by  the  fact  of  having  the  key  of  his  own 
door  turned  upon  him. 

But  slumber  soon  locked  his  senses  into  oblivion, 
and  he  did  not  awake  until  the  sun  was  an  hour 
above  the  horizon. 

The  moment  Mrs.  Wilkinson  emerged,  with  her 
husband,  from  the  bar-room  of  Parker's  tavern,  she 
fled  along  the  street  like  a  swift  gliding  spirit,  far 
outstripping  in  speed  her  thoroughly  sobered  and 
alarmed  husband,  who  hurried  after  her  with  rapid 
steps.  The  door  of  the  house  had  been  left  open 
when  she  came  forth  in  the  anguish  of  her  wild 
alarm  to  summon  her  husband,  and  she  re-entered 
and  flew  up-stairs  without  the  pause  of  an  instant. 
Wilkinson  was  but  a  moment  or  two  later  in  reach- 
ing the  house,  and  in  gaining  their  chamber.  The 
sight  that  met  his  eyes  sent  the  blood  coldly  to  his 
heart.  The  mother  had  already  snatched  the  child 
from  the  crib  in  which  she  had  left  her,  and  was 
standing  with  her  close  to  the  lamp,  the  light  from 
which  fell  strongly  upon  her  infantile  face,  that  was 
fearfully  distorted.  The  eyes  were  open  and  rolled 


LOST  AND   \VOX.  41 


up,  until  the  entire  pupil  was  hidden.  The  lips 
were  white  with  their  firm  compression ;  and  yet 
they  had  a  quick  nervous  motion. 

"Oh,  John  !  John  !  'what  is  the  matter?"  cried 
Mrs.  Wilkinson,  as  she  looked  first  upon  the  face  of 
her  child,  and  then  into  that  of  her  husband,  with  a 
most  anxious  and  imploring  glance.  "  Is  she  dying  ?" 

aXo,  dear,  I  think  not,"  returned  Wilkinson, 
with  a  composure  of  voice  that  belied  the  agitation 
of  his  feelings. 

"  Oh  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  Yes  !  Yes  !  I'm 
sure  she's  dying.  Oh  !  run  quick  !  quick  !  for  the 
doctor." 

"  First,"  said  Wilkinson,  who  was  becoming, 
every  moment,  more  self-possessed,  and  who  now 
saw  that  the  child,  who  was  teething,  had  been 
thrown  into  spasms,  "  let  us  do  what  we  can  for  her. 
She  is  in  convulsions,  and  we  must  get  her  into  a 
bath  of  hot  water  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  will  call 
up  Anna.  Don't  be  alarmed,"  he  added,  in  a  sooth- 
ing voice  :  "  there  is  no  immediate  danger." 

"  Are  you  sure,  John  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  Oh  !  I'm 
afraid  she  is  dying  !  My  precious,  precious  babe  !" 
And  the  mother  clasped  her  child  passionately  to 
her  bosom. 

In  the  course  of  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  a  vessel 
of  hot  water  was  ready,  and  into  this  the  still  writh- 
ing form  of  the  convulsed  child  was  placed.  Then 
Wilkinson  hurried  off  for  their  physician.  Half  an 

4* 


42  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


hour  afterwards  he  returned  with  him.  The  good 
effects  of  the  hot-bath  were  already  perceptible. 
The  face  of  the  child  had  resumed  its  placid  sweet- 
ness of  expression,  and  there4  was  but  slight  convul- 
sive twitching  in  the  limbs.  The  doctor  remained 
with  them,  applying,  from  time  to  time,  appropriate 
remedies,  until  all  the  painful  signs  which  occasioned 
so  much  alarm  had  vanished,  and  then  left,  promis- 
ing to  call  early  on  the  next  morning. 

It  was  past  one  o'clock.  The  physician  had  left, 
and  the  domestics  retired  to  their  own  apartment. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilkinson  were  alone  with  their  still 
unconscious  child,  that  lay  in  a  deep,  unnatural 
slumber.  They  were  standing,  side  by  side,  and 
bending  over  the  bed  on  which  little  Ella  lay. 
Wilkinson  had  drawn  his  arm  around  his  wife,  and 
she  had  laid  her  head  upon  his  shoulder.  Each 
heard  the  beating  of  the  other's  heart,  as  thus  they 
stood,  silent,  yet  with  troubled  thoughts  and  op- 
pressed feelings. 

A  tear  fell  upon  the  hand  of  Wilkinson,  and  the 
warm  touch,  coming  as  it  did  in  that  moment  of  in- 
tense excitement,  caused  a  quick  thrill  to  pass 
through  his  nerves;  and  he  started  involuntarily. 
Words  of  confession  and  promises  for  the  future 
were  on  his  tongue;  but,  their  utterance,  just  at 
that  moment,  seemed  untimely,  and  he  merely  an- 
swered the  mute  appeal  of  tears  with  a  fervent, 
heart-warm  kiss,  that,  if  the  power  of  his  will  could 


LOST   AND   WON.  43 


have  gone  with  it,  would  have  filled  the  heart  of  his 
wife  with  joy  unspeakable.  Scarcely  had  his  lips 
touched  hers,  ere  she  started  up,  and  flung  her  arms 
around  his  neck,  sobbing — 

"  Oh,  my  husband  !     My  husband  !" 

If  she  had  designed  to  say  more,  utterance  failed, 
or  was  checked ;  for  she  hid  her  face  on  his  bosom, 
and  wept  like  a  heart-broken  child. 

How  sincere  was  Wilkinson's  repentance  for  past 
errors  in  ihat  solemn  hour  !  and  how  fervent  was 
the  promise  of  future  amendment ! 

"  I  were  worse  than  an  evil  spirit,  to  lay  grief 
upon  that  gentle  heart,  or  to  make  of  those  loving 
eyes  a  fountain  of  tears  I" 

Such  was  the  mental  ejaculation  of  Wilkinson,  and 
he  meant  all  that  he  said. 

"  God  bless  you,  dearest  I"  he  murmured  in  her 
ear. — "  God  bless  you,  and  take  this  shadow  quickly 
from  your  heart !  Believe  me,  Mary,  that  no  act  of 
mine  will  ever  dim  its  bright  surface  again." 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  slowly  raised  her  pale,  tear- 
moistened  face,  and  fixed,  for  a  few  moments,  her 
eyes  in  those  of  her  husband's.  There  was  more  of 
confidence  and  hope  in  them  than  pages  of  written 
language  could  express.  Then  her  face  was  again 
hid  on  his  bosom ;  while  his  arm  clasped  her  slender 
form  with  a  more  earnest  pressure. 


44  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MORNING  found  little  Ella,  though  much  exhaust- 
ed by  the  severe  struggle  through  which  she  had 
passed,  so  far  restored  that  her  parents  ceased  to  feel 
that  anxiety  with  which  for  hours,  as  they  hung 
over  her,  their  hearts  had  been  painfully  oppressed. 

It  could  not  but  be  that  a  shadow  would  rest  on 
the  gentle  face  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  as  she  met  her 
husband  at  the  breakfast  table ;  for  it  was  impossible 
to  obliterate  the  memory  of  such  a  night  of  trial  and 
alarm  as  the  one  through  which  she  had  just  passed. 
And  yet,  with  a  strong  effort,  she  strove  to  appear 
cheerful,  and  when  she  spoke  to  her  husband,  it  was 
with  a  forced  smile  and  a  tone  of  tenderness  that 
touched  and  subdued  his  feelings ;  for  he  well  un- 
derstood that,  in  a  certain  sense,  she  was  merely 
acting. 

But  few  words  passed  between  them  during  the 
brief  morning  meal.  As  the  hour  was  later  than 
usual,  Wilkinson  found  it  necessary  to  hurry  off  to 
his  place  of  business ;  so,  rising  before  his  wife  left 
the  table,  he  kissed  her  pale  lips,  and,  without  ven- 
turing to  make  a  remark,  left  the  room. 

The  door  had  scarcely  closed  upon  him,  ere  a  tear 
stole  out  from  the  sad  eyes  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson.  A 


LOST   AND   WON.  45 


few  moments  she  sat  in  statue-like  stillness,  then 
there  was  a  quick  glancing  of  her  eye  upwards, 
while  the  motion  of  her  lips  showed  that  she  asked 
strength  for  herself,  or  protection  for  one  whom  she 
loved  better  than  herself. 

It  was  a  regular  custom  with  Wilkinson  to  stop 
at  a  drinking-house  on  his  way  to  his  store,  and  get 
a  glass  of  brandy.  This  was  an  afternoon  as  well 
as  a  morning  custom,  which  had  been  continued  so 
long  that  it  was  now  a  habit.  Yet  he  was  not 
aware  of  this  fact,  and,  if  he  had  thought  about  the 
custom,  would  have  regarded  it  as  one  easily  aban- 
doned. He  had  a  glimpse  of  his  error  on  the  present 
occasion. 

To  do  a  thing  by  habit  is  to  do  it  without  reflec- 
tion; and  herein  lies  the  dangerous  power  of  habit; 
for,  when  we  act  from  confirmed  habit,  it  is  without 
thought  as  to  the  good  or  evil  to  result  from  our 
action.  Thus  had  Wilkinson  been  acting  for  months 
as  regards  his  regular  glass  of  brandy  in  the  morn- 
ing and  afternoon,  while  passing  from  his  dwelling 
to  his  store.  Not  until  now  was  he  in  the  least 
conscious  that  habit  was  gaining  an  undue  power 
over  him. 

As  the  eyes  of  Wilkinson  rested  upon  the  form 
of  a  certain  elegant  coloured  glass  lamp  standing 
in  front  of  a  well-known  drinking-house,  he  was 
conscious  of  a  desire  for  his  accustomed  draught  of 
brandy  and  water ;  but,  at  the  same  instant,  there 


46  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


came  a  remembrance  of  the  painful  occurrences  of 
the  evening  previous,  and  he  said  to  himself — "  One 
such  lesson  ought  to  make  me  hate  brandy,  and 
every  thing  else  that  can  rob  me  of  a  true  regard  for 
the  happiness  of  Mary." 

Yet,  even  as  he  said  this,  habit,  disturbed  in  the 
stronghold  of  its  power,  aroused  itself,  and  furnished 
him  with  an  argument  that  instantly  broke  down 
his  forming  resolution.  This  argument  was  his  loss 
of  rest,  the  consequent  debility  arising  therefrom, 
and  the  actual  need  of  his  system  for  something 
stimulating,  in  order  to  enable  him  to  enter  properly 
upon  the  business  of  the  day. 

So  habit  triumphed.  Wilkinson,  without  even 
pausing  at  the  door,  entered  the  drinking-house  and 
obtained  his  accustomed  glass  of  brandy. 

"  I  feel  a  hundred  per  cent,  better/'  said  he,  as 
he  emerged  from  the  bar-room  and  took  his  way  to 
his  store.  "  That  was  just  what  my  system  want- 
ed." 

Yet,  if  he  felt,  for  a  little  while,  better  as  regard- 
ed his  bodily  sensations,  the  act  did  not  leave  him 
more  comfortable  in  mind.  His  instinctive  con- 
sciousness of  having  done  wrong  in  yielding  to  the 
desire  for  brandy,  troubled  him. 

"  I  shall  have  to  break  up  this  habit  entirely," 
he  remarked  to  himself  during  the  morning,  as  his 
thought  returned,  again  and  again,  to  the  subject. 
"  I  don't  believe  I'm  in  any  particular  danger;  but, 


LOST   AND   AVON.  47 


then,  it  troubles  Mary;  and  I  can't  bear  to  see  her 
troubled." 

"While  he  thus  communed  with  himself,  his  friend 
Ellis  dropped  in. 

"  I  meant  to  have  called  earlier/'  said  Ellis,  "  to 
ask  about  your  sick  child,  but  was  prevented  by  a 
customer.  She  is  better,  I  hope?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  much  better,  thank  you." 

"  What  was  the  matter  ?"  inquired  Ellis. 

"  She  is  teething,  and  was  thrown  into  convul- 
sions." 

"  Ah !  yes.  Well,  I  never  was  so  startled  in  my 
life  as  by  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson.  And 
the  child  is  better  ?" 

"  When  I  came  away  this  morning,  I  left  her 
sleeping  calmly  and  sweetly;  and,  what  is  more,  the 
points  of  two  teeth  had  made  their  way  through  the 
red  and  swollen  gums." 

"All  right,  then.     But  how  is  Mary?" 

"  Not  very  well,  of  course.  How  could  she  be, 
after  such  a  night  of  anxiety  and  alarm?  The  fact 
is,  Harry,  I  was  to  blame  for  having  left  her  alone 
during  the  evening,  knowing,  as  I  did,  that  Ella 
was  not  very  well." 

Ellis  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  he  replied — "  Not 
much  excuse  for  you,  I  must  admit.  I  only  wish 
the  attraction  at  my  home  was  as  strong  as  it  is  at 
yours:  Parker's  would  not  see  me  often.  As  for 
you,  my  old  friend,  if  I  speak  what  I  think,  I  must 


48  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


say  that  your  inclination  to  go  out  in  the  evening 
needs  correcting.  I  spend  most  of  my  evenings 
from  home,  because  home  is  made  unpleasant ;  you 
leave  your  wife,  because  a  love  of  conviviality  and 
gay  company  entices  you  away.  Such  company  I 
know  to  be  dangerous,  and  especially  so  for  you. 
There  now,  as  a  friend,  I  have  talked  out  plainly. 
What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  Ain't  I  right  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Wilkinson,  musingly. 
"  Perhaps  you  are.  I  have  thought  as  much,  some- 
times, myself." 

"I  know  I'm  right,"  said  Ellis,  positively.  " So 
take  a  friend's  advice,  and  never  go  out  after  sun- 
down, except  in  company  with  your  wife." 

There  was  a  change  from  gravity  to  mock  serious- 
ness in  the  voice  of  Ellis  as  he  closed  this  sentence. 
Wilkinson  compressed  his  lips  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Can't  always  be  tied  to  my  wife's  apron-string. 
Oh,  no !  haven't  come  to  that." 

"With,  such  a  wife,  and  your  temperament,  it  is 
the  best  place  for  you,"  said  Ellis,  laughing. 

"  May  be  it  is;  but,  for  all  that,  I  like  good  com- 
pany too  well  to  spend  all  my  time  with  her." 

"  Isn't  she  good  company  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes;  but,  then,  variety  is  the  very  spice  of 
life,  you  know." 

"  True  enough.  Well,  we'll  not  quarrel  about  the 
matter.  Come !  let's  go  and  take  a  drink ;  I'm  as 
dry  as  a  fish." 


LOST  AND   WON.  49 


"  I  don't  care  if  I  do,"  was  the  instinctive  reply 
of  Wilkinson,  who  took  up  his  hat  as  he  spoke. 

The  two  men  left  the  store,  and  were,  a  little 
while  after,  taking  a  lunch  at  a  public  house,  and 
chatting  over  their  brandy  and  water. 

At  the  usual  dinner  hour,  Wilkinson  returned 
home.  He  did  not  fully  understand  the  expression 
of  his  wife's  face,  as  she  looked  at  him  on  his  en- 
trance :  it  was  a  look  of  anxious  inquiry.  She  sat 
with  Ella  upon  her  lap :  the  child  was  sleeping. 

u  How  is  our  little  pet  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  bent 
over,  first  kissing  his  wife,  and  then  touching  his 
lips  lightly  to  the  babe's  forehead. 

"  She's  been  in  a  heavy  sleep  for  most  of  the  time 
since  morning,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  turning 
her  face  aside,  so  that  her  husband  could  not  see  its 
changed  expression. 

Mr.  Wilkinson's  habitual  use  of  brandy  had  long 
been  a  source  of  trouble  to  his  wife.  In  reviewing 
the  painful  incidents  of  the  previous  evening,  a  hope 
had  sprung  up  in  her  heart  that  the  effect  would  be 
to  awaken  his  mind  to  a  sense  of  his  danger,  cause 
him  to  reflect,  and  lead  to  a  change  of  habit.  Alas ! 
how  like  a  fairy  frost-work  fabric  melted  this  hope 
away,  as  the  strong  breath  of  her  husband  fell  upon 
her  face.  She  turned  away  and  sighed — sighed  in 
her  spirit,  but  not  audibly;  for,  even  in  her  pain  and 
disappointment,  active  love  prompted  to  conceal- 
ment, lest  the  shadow  that  came  over  her  should 

HL— 5 


50  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

repel  the  one  she  so  earnestly  sought  to  win  from 
his  path  of  danger. 

Ah,  who  can  tell  the  effort  it  cost  that  true-heart- 
ed wife  to  call  up  the  smile  with  which,  scarcely  a 
moment  afterwards,  she  looked  into  her  husband's 
face ! 

"  It  is  no  worse,  if  no  better,"  was  her  sustaining 
thought ;  and  she  leaned  upon  it,  fragile  reed  as  it 
was.  ' 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  COME  home  early,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson, 
resting  her  hand  upon  her  husband,  and  looking 
into  his  face  with  a  loving  smile.  "  The  time  seems 
so  long  when  you  are  away !" 

"  Does  it  ?"  returned  Wilkinson,  and  he  kissed 
his  wife.  Yet,  did  not  the  tenderness  of  tone  with 
which  he  spoke,  nor  the  act  of  love  which  accom- 
panied it,  hide  from  the  quick  perception  of  Mary 
the  fact  that  her  hushand's  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied.  "I  count  the  hours 
when  you  are  absent.  You'll  be  home  early  to 
tea  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  will.  There  now,  let  your  heart  be 
at  rest." 

And  Wilkinson  retired.  This  was  after  dinner, 
on  the  day  that  succeeded  the  opening  of  our  story. 


LOST   AND   WON.  51 


As  in  the  morning,  he  found  it  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world  to  call  in  at  a  certain  drinking 
house  and  get  his  accustomed  glass  of  brandy.  As 
he  entered  the  door  of  the  bar-room,  a  man  named 
Carlton  stepped  forward  to  meet  him,  with  extended 
hand.  He  was  an  old  acquaintance,  with  whom 
Wilkinson  had  often  passed  an  agreeable  hour, — 
one  of  your  bar-room  loungers,  known  as  good  fel- 
lows, who,  while  they  exhibit  no  apparent  means  of 
support,  generally  have  money  to  spend,  and  plenty 
of  time  on  their  hands. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  Wilkinson ;  'pon  my  soul ! 
Where  have  you  kept  yourself  for  this  month  of 
Sundays?" 

Such  was  the  familiar  greeting  of  Carlton. 

"  And  it  does  one's  eyes  good  to  look  upon  your 
pleasant  face/'  returned  Wilkinson,  as  he  grasped 
the  other's  hand.  "  Where  have  you  kept  yourself  ?" 

"  Oh,  I'm  always  on  hand,"  said  Carlton,  gayly. 
"  It's  you  who  are  shut  up,  and  hid  away  from  the 
pure  air  and  bright  sunshine  in  a  gloomy  store, 
delving  like  a  mole  in  the  dark.  The  fact  is,  old 
fellow  !  you  are  killing  yourself.  Turning  gray,  as 
I  live  I" 

And  he  touched,  with  his  fingers,  the  locks  of 
Wilkinson,  in  which  a  few  gray  lines  were  visible. 

"  Bad !  bad  I"  he  went  on,  shaking  his  head. 
"  And  you  are  growing  as  thin  as  a  lath.  When 
did  you  ride  out  ?" 


52  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

"  Oh,  not  for  two  months  past.  I've  been  too 
closely  occupied  with  business." 

"  Business  I"  there  was  a  slight  air  of  contempt 
in  Carlton's  voice  and  manner.  "  I  hate  to  hear 
this  everlasting  cant,  if  I  must  so  call  it,  about 
business ;  as  if  there  were  nothing  else  in  the  world 
to  think  or  care  about.  Men  bury  themselves  be- 
tween four  brick  walls,  and  toil  from  morning  until 
night,  like  prison-slaves ;  and  if  you  talk  to  them 
about  an  hour's  recreation  for  body  and  mind,  all 
you  can  get  out  of  them  is — c  Business  !  business  !' 
Pah  !  I'm  out  of  all  patience  with  it.  Life  was 
made  for  enjoyment  as  well  as  toil.  But  come, 
what'll  you  drink  ?  I've  preached  to  you  until  I'm 
as  dry  as  a  chip." 

The  two  men  stepped  to  the  bar  and  drank.  As 
they  turned  away,  Carlton  drew  his  arm  within  that 
of  Wilkinson,  saying,  as  he  did  so — 

"  As  it  is  an  age  since  I  saw  you,  I  must  prolong 
the  pleasure  of  this  meeting.  Your  work  is  done 
for  the  day,  of  course." 

"  No,  I  can't  just  say  that  it  is." 

"  Well,  I  can  then.  If  you've  been  immuring 
yourself,  as  you  have  on  your  own  confession,  for 
some  two  months,  or  more,  an  afternoon  with  good 
company  is  indispensable.  So,  consider  this  a  holi- 
day, and  think  no  more  of  bags,  boxes,  cash-book, 
or  ledger.  I  bought  a  splendid  trotter  yesterday, 
and  am  going  to  try  his  speed.  You  are  a  first-rate 


LOST   AND   WON.  53 


judge  of  horse-flesh,  and  I  want  your  opinion.  So, 
consider  yourself  engaged  for  a  flying  trip  to  Mount 
Airy." 

"  You  are  a  tempter,"  said  Wilkinson,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  no.  A  friend,  who  will  give  health  to  your 
veins,  and  life  to  your  spirit." 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Wilkinson,  now  turning  his 
thoughts  upon  his  business — "  if  there  isn't  some- 
thing special  that  requires  my  attention.  Yes,"  he 
added,  after  thinking  for  a  few  moments — "  a  cus- 
tomer promised  to  be  in  after  dinner.  He  is  from 
the  country,  and  bought  a  good  bill  last  season. 
You  will  have  to  excuse  me,  Carlton.  I'll  go  with 
you  to-morrow." 

"Indeed,  and  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  was 
promptly  answered.  "  Let  your  customers  call  in 
the  morning — always  the  best  time  for  business. 
Men  don't  buy  in  the  afternoon." 

"  My  experience  says  differently." 

"  A  fig  for  your  experience  !  No,  no,  my  good 
friend.  You're  booked  for  a  ride  with  me  this  very 
afternoon  ;  so  let  your  business  and  customers  take 
care  of  themselves.  Health  is  better  than  dollars ; 
and  length  of  days  than  great  possessions.  There's 
wisdom  in  miniature  for  you.  Wouldn't  I  make  a 
capital  preacher,  ha?" 

"  But  Carlton" 

"  But  me  no  buts,  my  hearty !"  and  Carlton 
slapped  Wilkinson  on  the  shoulder  as  he  spoke,  in 


54  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


a  famiKar  manner.  "  You're  my  prisoner  for  the 
rest  of  the  day.  Do  you  understand  that  ?" 

"  You've  bought  a  fast  trotter,  have  you  ?"  said 
Wilkinson,  after  a  brief  but  hurried  self-communion, 
the  end  of  which  was  a  determination  to  take  the 
afternoon  for  pleasure,  and  let  his  customer  call  in 
the  morning. 

"  I  have  ;  and  the  prettiest  animal  your  eyes  ever 
looked  upon." 

"  Fleet  as  an  arrow  ?" 

"  Ay ;  as  the  very  wind.  But  you  shall  have 
a  taste  of  his  quality.  So  come  along.  Time 
passes." 

The  two  men  left  the  tavern,  and  went  to  the 
stable  where  Carlton's  new  horse  was  kept.  The 
animal  was  soon  in  harness. 

Four  hours  afterwards,  the  last  rays  of  the  set- 
ting sun  came  through  the  windows  of  a  room,  in 
which  were  seated,  at  a  table,  Carlton  and  Wilkin- 
son. Liquor  and  glasses  were  on  the  table,  and 
cards  in  the  hands  of  the  men.  Wilkinson  appeared 
excited,  but  Carlton  was  calm  and  self-possessed. 
The  former  had  been  drinking  freely ;  but  the  latter 
exhibited  not  the  smallest  sign  of  inebriation.  A 
single  five-dollar  bill  lay  beside  Wilkinson ;  a  dozen 
bills  and  two  gold  coins  were  beside  the  other. 
They  were  playing  for  the  last  stake.  Nervously 
did  Wilkinson  lay  card  after  card  upon  the  table, 
while,  with  the  most  perfect  coolness,  his  adversary 


LOST   AND   \VOX.  55 


played  his  hand,  a  certainty  of  winning  apparent  in 
every  motion.  And  he  did  win. 

"  Curse  my  luck  I"  exclaimed  "Wilkinson,  grind- 
ing his  teeth  together,  as  the  last  five-dollar  bill  he 
had  with  him  passed  into  the  hands  of  his  very  par- 
ticular friend. 

There  was  more  than  "  luck"  against  him,  if  he 
had  but  known  it. 

"  The  fortune  of  war,"  smilingly  replied  the 
winner.  "  The  race  is  not  always  to  the  swift,  nor 
the  battle  to  the  strong,  you  know.  You  played 
well — very  well ;  never  better  within  my  know- 
ledge. But,  as  you  say,  luck  was  against  you. 
And,  by  the  way,  what  a  curious  and  uncertain  thing 
this  luck  is  !  I've  seen  men  lose  at  every  turn  of 
the  card,  until  they  had  parted  with  thousands; 
and  then,  on  a  borrowed  dollar,  perhaps,  start  again, 
and  not  only  get  every  thing  back,  but  break  their 
antagonists.  This  is  an  every-day  occurrence,  in 
fact." 

Wilkinson  had  risen  from  the  table,  and  was 
pacing  the  room  in  a  fretful,  impatient  manner. 
Suddenly  he  stopped.  A  light  flashed  over  his  face. 
Then,  sitting  down,  he  snatched  up  a  pen,  and  writ- 
ing on  a  slip  of  paper — "  Due  Andrew  Carlton  $20," 
signed  it  with  his  name. 

Carlton  saw  every  letter  and  word  as  they  left 
the  pen,  and  ere  the  last  flourish  was  made  to  the 
signature,  had  selected  four  five-dollar  bills  from  the 


56  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


pile  beside  him.  Simultaneously  with  the  motion 
of  Wilkinson's  hand,  in  pushing  to  him  this  memo- 
randum of  debt,  was  the  motion  of  his  hand  in 
furnishing  the  sum  required. 

"  Not  the  man  to  be  frightened  at  a  little  adverse 
fortune,  I  see/'  remarked  the  cunning  tempter. 
"  Well,  I  do  like  a  man  who  never  can  acknowledge 
himself  beaten.  The  timid  and  easily  discouraged 
are  soon  left  far  behind  in  the  world's  race — and  they 
deserve  to  be/' 

Wilkinson  did  not  reply.  Another  deal  was 
made,  and  again  the  two  men  bent  over  the  table  in 
their  unequal  contest. 

•  In  less  than  half  an  hour,  the  money  obtained 
from  Carlton  had  gone  back  to  him. 

By  this  time  twilight  had  fallen. 

"  Nearly  eight  o'clock,  as  I  live  !"  muttered  Wil- 
kinson. He  had  drawn  forth  his  watch.  "  I  had 
no  idea  of  this.  And  we  are  ten  miles  from  the  city  !" 

A  thought  of  his  anxiously  waiting  wife  flitted 
across  his  mind.  He  remembered  her  last  pleading 
injunction  for  him  to  come  home  early,  and  the 
promise  he  had  given.  Alas !  like  so  many  more 
of  his  promises  to  her,  made  to  be  broken. 

"  Shall  we  return  now ;  or  order  supper  here  ?" 
said  Carlton,  in  his  bland  way. 

"  I  must  go  back  immediately,"  replied  Wilkin- 
son. "  It  is  an  hour  later  than  I  supposed.  I  was 
to  have  been  home  early  this  evening." 


LOST   AND   WON.  57 


"It  is  too  late  now  to  join  your  family  at  tea. 
They  have  given  you  out  before  this.  So,  I  think 
we'd  better  order  supper  here.  The  moon  is  full, 
and  it  will  be  almost  as  clear  as  daylight ;  and  much 
pleasanter  riding,  for  the  dew  will  keep  down  the 
dust.  What  say  you  ?" 

The  end  was,  Wilkinson  yielded. 

"  Not  down  in  the  mouth,  because  of  this  little 
run  of  ill-luck  ?"  said  Carlton,  in  a  bantering  way, 
as  he  saw  a  cloud  settling  over  the  face  of  his  victim. 

Lights  had  been  brought  in,  and  the  two  men 
still  remained  seated  by  the  table  at  which  they  had 
been  playing,  awaiting  the  preparation  of  supper. 

"  I'm  never  down  in  the  mouth,"  replied  Wilkin- 
son, forcing  a  smile  to  his  countenance.  "  Better 
luck  next  time,  has  always  been  my  motto." 

"  And  it  will  carry  you  safely  through  the  world. 
Try  another  glass  of  brandy." 

"  No — I've  taken  enough  already." 

"  It  isn't  every  man  who  knows  when  he  has 
enough,"  returned  the  other.  "  I've  often  wished 
that  I  knew  exactly  the  right  guage." 

And,  as  Carlton  spoke,  he  poured  some  brandy 
into  a  glass,  and,  adding  a  little  water,  affected  to 
take  a  deep  draught  thereof;  but,  though  the  glass 
was  held  long  to  his  mouth,  only  a  small  portion  of 
the  contents  passed  his  lips.  In  replacing  the  tum- 
bler on  the  table,  he  managed  to  give  it  a  position 
behind  the  water-pitcher  where  the  eye  of  Wilkin- 


58  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

son  could  not  rest  upon  it,  He  need  hardly  have 
taken  this  trouble,  for  his  companion  was  too  much 
absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts  to  notice  a  matter  like 
this. 

"They're  a  long  time  in  getting  supper,"  re- 
marked Carlton,  in  a  well-affected  tone  of  impatience. 
"  What  is  the  time  now  ?" 

Wilkinson  drew  forth  his  watch,  and,  after  glanc- 
ing upon  the  face,  replied — 

"  Ten  minutes  after  eight." 

"We  shall  have  it  pretty  soon  now,  I  suppose. 
They  don't  understand  the  double  quick  time  move- 
ment out  here." 

As  Carlton  said  this,  his  eyes  rested,  with  more 
than  a  mere  passing  interest,  on  the  gold  lever  that 
Wilkinson,  instead  of  returning  to  his  pocket,  re- 
tained in  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  toyed 
with  the  key  and  chain  in  a  half-abstracted  man- 
ner. 

For  the  space  of  nearly  a  minute,  neither  of  the 
men  spoke,  but  the  thought  of  each  was  at  the  same 
point. 

"That's  a  beautiful  watch,"  at  length  Carlton 
ventured  to  say.  There  was  a  well  disguised  in- 
difference in  his  tones. 

"  It  ought  to  be,"  was  the  reply  of  Wilkinson. 

«  What  did  it  cost  you  ?" 

"  One  hundred  and  forty  dollars." 

"  Is  it  a  good  time-keeper  ?" 


LOST   AND   WON.  59 


"First-rate.  It  hasn't  varied  a  minute  in  six 
months." 

"  Just  such  a  watch  as  I  would  like  to  own.  I've 
had  terrible  bad  luck  with  watches." 

This  was  a  kind  of  feeler. 

No  reply  was  made  by  Wilkinson,  although  an 
offer  to  sell  trembled  on  his  tongue.  He  still  kept 
the  watch  in  his  hand,  and  toyed  with  the  key  and 
chain,  as  before,  in  an  absent  manner. 

"  Could  you  be  tempted  to  sell  ?"  finally  asked 
Carlton. 

"  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  I  might," — said 
Wilkinson.  He  drew  his  breath  deeply  as  he 
spoke. 

"  Or,  perhaps  you  wouJd  trade  ?"  and  Carlton 
now  produced  his  gold  lever.  "  Mine  is  a  very  good 
watch,  though  not  so  valuable  as  yours.  It  keeps 
fair  time,  however.  I  paid  a  hundred  dollars  for  it 
three  or  four  years  ago. 

A  mutual  examination  of  watches  took  place. 

"  Well — what  do  you  say  to  a  trade  ?" 

The  servant  appeared  at  this  juncture,  and  an- 
nounced supper.  The  two  watches  were  returned 
to  their  respective  places  of  deposit,  and  the  two 
men  proceeded  to  the  dining-room.  Here  the  traffic, 
just  begun,  was  renewed  and  completed.  The 
watches  were  exchanged,  and  Wilkinson  received 
sixty  dollars  "  boot." 

"Shall  I  order  the  horse  brought  out?"  asked 


60  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


Carlton,  as  they  arose,  about  half  an  hour  after- 
wards, from  the  supper-table. 

"  Yes ;  if  you  please." 

This  was  not  said  with  much  promptness  of  tone ; 
a  fact  instantly  noted  by  the  ear  of  Carlton. 

"  Well,  I'm  ready.  Come — let's  have  a  drink 
before  we  go  !" 

The  two  men  stepped  to  the  bar  and  drank. 
Then  they  lingered,  each  with  a  lighted  cigar,  and 
finally  withdrew — to  proceed  to  the  city  ?  No.  To 
return  to  their  room  up-stairs,  and  renew  their  un- 
equal contest.  The  sixty  dollars  which  Wilkinson 
had  received  were  staked,  and  soon  passed  over  to 
his  adversary.  Kendered,  now,  desperate  by  his 
losses  and  the  brandy  which  inflamed  his  brain,  he 
borrowed,  once  more,  on  his  due-bill — this  time  to 
the  amount  of  several  hundred  dollars.  His  ill- 
success  continued. 

It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock,  when  Wilkinson 
started  up  from  the  table,  exclaiming,  as  he  threw 
the  cards  upon  the  floor — 

"Fool!  fool!  fool!  One  step  more,  and  I  am 
ruined.  Carlton  !"  And  he  fixed  his  eyes  almost 
fiercely  upon  his  companion. 

"  Carlton  !  I  thought  you  my  friend,  but  find, 
when  it  is  almost  too  late  to  profit  by  the  discovery, 
that  you  are  a  tempter.  Ay  !  and  worse  than  a 
tempter !  Pure  air  and  the  bright  sunshine  !  Is 
this  your  health  for  mind  and  body?  Oh  !  weak, 


LOST   AND   WON.  61 


weak,  unstable  one  that  I  am !  Poor  Mary  I" 
This  was  said  in  a  low,  mournful,  and  scarcely  audi- 
ble voice.  "  Thus  has  my  promise  to  you  vanished 
into  thin  air !" 

As  Wilkinson  said  this,  he  turned  away  and  left 
the  room.  Carl  ton  was  in  no  hurry  to  follow. 
When,  at  length,  he  came  down,  and  made  inquiry 
for  the  one  he  had  dealt  by  so  treacherously,  the 
man,  who  was  shutting  the  windows  of  the  bar-room, 
and  about  locking  up  for  the  night,  replied  that  he 
had  not  seen  him. 

"  Not  seen  him  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone  of  surprise. 

"  No,  sir.     He  didn't  come  in  here." 

The  hostler  was  aroused  from  his  sleeping  posi- 
tion on  a  bench  in  the  corner,  and  directed  by  Carl- 
ton  to  bring  out  his  buggy.  During  the  time  he 
was  away,  the  latter  made  a  hurried  search  in  and 
around  the  house.  Not  finding  the  object  thereof, 
he  muttered,  in  an  under  tone,  a  few  wicked  oaths ; 
then,  jumping  into  his  vehicle,  he  put  whip  to  his 
horse,  and  dashed  off  towards  the  city.  He  had 
Wilkinson's  due-bills  in  his  pocket  for  various  sums, 
amounting,  in  all,  to  nearly  two  thousand  dollars ! 


in.— e 


THE   TWO   WIVES;    OR, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ALMOST  motionless,  with  her  sleeping  babe  upon 
her  lap,  sat  Mrs.  Wilkinson  for  nearly  half  an  hour 
after  her  husband  left  the  house.  She  saw  nothing 
that  was  around  her — heard  nothing — felt  nothing. 
Not  even  the  breathings  of  her  sleeping  infant 
reached  her  ear ;  nor  was  she  conscious  of  the 
pressure  of  its  body  against  her  own.  Fixed  in  a 
•dreamy,  inward  gaze  were  her  eyes;  and  her  soul 
withdrew  itself  from  the  portal  at  which,  a  little 
while  before,  it  hearkened  into  the  world  of  nature. 
At  last  there  came  a  motion  of  the  eyelids — a 
quivering  motion — then  they  closed,  slowly,  over 
the  blue  orbs  beneath  ;  and  soon  after  a  tear  trem- 
bled out  to  the  light  from  behind  the  barriers  that 
sought  to  retain  them.  A  deep,  fluttering  sigh  suc- 
ceeded to  this  sign  of  feeling.  Then  her  lips  parted, 
and  she  spoke  audibly  to  herself. 

"  Oh,  that  I  knew  how  to  win  him  back  from  the 
path  of  danger  !  He  does  not  love  his  home ;  and 
yet  how  have  I  striven  to  make  it  attractive  !  How 
much  have  I  denied  myself !  and  how  much  yielded 
to  and  thought  of  him !  He  is  always  kind  to  me ; 
and  he — yes — I  know  he  loves  me ;  but — ah  I" 

The  low  voice  trembled  back  sighing  into  silence. 
Still,  for  a  long  time,  the  unhappy  wife  sat  almost 


LOST   AND  WON.  63 


as  motionless  as  if  in  sleep.  Then,  as  some  thought 
grew  active  towards  a  purpose  in  her  mind,  she  arose, 
and  laying  Ella  on  the  bed,  began  busying  herself 
in  some  household  duties. 

The  afternoon  passed  slowly  away,  yet  not  for  a 
moment  was  the  thought  of  her  husband  absent  from 
the  mind  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson. 

"  What  ought  I  to  do  ?  How  shall  I  make  his 
home  sufficiently  attractive  ?" 

This  was  her  over  and  over  again  repeated  ques- 
tion ;  and  her  thoughts  bent  themselves  eagerly  for 
some  answer  upon  which  her  heart  might  rest  with 
even  a  small  degree  of  hope. 

The  prolonged,  intense  anxiety  and  alarm  of  the 
previous  night,  added  to  bodily  fatigue  and  loss  of 
rest,  were  not  without  their  effect  upon  Mrs.  Wil- 
kinson. Early  in  the  day  she  suffered  from  lassi- 
tude and  a  sense  of  exhaustion ;  and,  after  dinner, 
a  slight  headache  was  added ;  this  increased  hourly, 
and  by  four  o'clock  was  almost  blinding  in  its 
violence.  Still,  she  tried  to  forget  herself,  and  what 
she  suffered  in  thinking  about  and  devising  some 
means  of  saving  her  husband  from  the  dangers  that 
lay  hidden  from  his  own  view  about  his  footsteps. 

"  If  I  could  only  add  some  new  attraction  to  his 
home!"  she  murmured  to  herself,  over  and  over 
again. 

Sometimes  she  would  hold  her  temples  with  both 
her  hands,  in  the  vain  effort  to  still,  by  pressure,  the 


64  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


throbbing  arteries  within,  while  she  continued  to 
think  of  her  husband. 

As  tea-time  drew  near,  Mrs.  Wilkinson  left  Ella, 
in  the  care  of  a  domestic,  and  went  into  the  kitchen 
to  prepare  some  delicacy  for  the  evening  meal  of 
which  she  knew  her  husband  was  fond ;  this  engaged 
her  for  half  an  hour,  and  the  effort  increased  the 
pain  in  her  aching  head. 

The  usual  time  at  which  Mr.  Wilkinson  came 
home  arrived,  and  his  wife,  who  had  returned  to  her 
chamber,  sat  with  her  babe  on  her  bosom,  listening 
for  the  well-known  welcome  sound  of  her  husband's 
footsteps  in  the  passage  below.  Time  glided  by, 
yet  she  waited  and  listened  in  vain;  and  to  the 
pleasant  thoughts  of  the  influence  her  love  was  to 
throw  around  him  on  that  very  evening,  to  keep  him 
at  home,  began  to  succeed  a  fear,  which  made  her 
heart  faint,  that  he  would  not  come  home  at  all ;  or, 
at  least,  not  until  a  late  hour. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  stealthily  the  sober  twi- 
light began  to  fall,  bringing  with  it  shadows  and 
forebodings  for  the  heart  of  the  anxious  wife. 

How  vainly  she  waited  and  watched  !  The  twi- 
light was  lost  in  darkness,  and  yet  her  eagerly  listen- 
ing ear  failed  to  note  the  well-known  sound  of  her 
husband's  footfall  on  the  pavement,  as  she  stood, 
listening  at  the  open  window. 

"  Oh  !  what  can  keep  him  so  long  away !" 

How  often  did  these  words  come  sighing  from  her 


LOST   AND   WON.  65 


lips,  yet  there  was  no  answer.  Alas !  how  to  the 
very  winds  were  flung  the  pleasant  hopes  she  had 
cherished — cherished  with  a  sense  of  fear  and  trem- 
bling— during  the  afternoon. 

Night  closed  in,  and  the  time  wore  on  steadily, 
minute  by  minute,  and  hour  by  hour,  until  the  poor 
wife  was  almost  wild  with  suspense  and  anxiety. 
The  dainties  she  had  so  thoughtfully  and  lovingly 
prepared  for  her  husband  remained  untasted,  and 
had  now  become  cold  and  unpalatable — were,  in 
fact,  forgotten.  Food  she  had  not,  herself,  tasted. 
Once  or  twice  a  servant  had  come  to  know  if  she 
would  have  tea  served ;  but  she  merely  answered — 
"  Not  until  Mr.  Wilkinson  returns." 

Nine — ten — eleven  o'clock  ;  still  Mrs.  Wilkinson 
was  alone.  Sometimes  she  moved  restlessly  about 
her  chamber;  or  wandered,  like  a  perturbed  spirit, 
from  room  to  room;  and,  sometimes  in  mere  ex- 
haustion, would  drop  into  a  chair  or  sink  across 
the  bed,  and  sit  or  lie  as  motionless  as  if  in  a  profound 
sleep. 

Ah  !  could  her  husband  have  looked  in  upon  her, 
but  for  a  few  moments;  could  he  have  seen  the 
anguish  of  her  pale  face ;  the  fixed  and  dreamy  ex- 
pression of  her  tearful  eyes ;  the  grieving  arch  of 
the  lips  he  loved — could  he  have  seen  and  compre- 
hended all  she  suffered  and  all  she  feared,  it  must 
have  won  him  back  from  his  selfish  folly.  And  how 
many  wives  have  suffered  all  this,  and  more  !  How 


66  THE   TWO   WIVES  ;    OR, 


many  still  suffer !  Errant  husband,  pause,  look 
upon  the  picture  we  have  presented,  and  think  of 
the  many,  many  heart-aches  you  have  given  the 
tender,  long-suffering,  loving  one  who  clings  to  you 
yet  so  closely,  and  who,  for  your  sake,  would  even  lay 
down,  if  needful,  her  very  life. 

Happily  for  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  her  child  lay  in  a 
sound  sleep ;  for,  with  the  appearance  of  the  edges 
of  two  teeth  through  her  red  and  swollen  gums,  the 
feverish  excitement  of  her  system  yielded  to  a 
healthy  reaction. 

Twelve  o'clock  was  rung  out  clearly  upon  the 
hushed  air  of  midnight ;  and  yet  the  poor  wife  was 
alone.  One  o'clock  found  her  in  a  state  of  agonized 
alarm,  standing  at  the  open  street-door,  and  hearken- 
ing, eagerly,  first  in  one  direction  and  then  in 
another;  yet  all  in  vain — for  the  absent  one  came 
not. 

It  was  nearly  two  o'clock,  and  Mrs.  "Wilkinson, 
in  the  impotence  of  her  prolonged  and  intense 
anxiety  and  fear,  had  thrown  herself,  with  a  groan, 
across  her  bed,  when  a  sound  in  the  street  caught 
her  ear.  Instantly  she  started  up,  while  a  thrill  ran 
through  every  nerve.  Feet  were  on  the  door-steps; 
a  key  was  in  the  lock — a  moment  more,  and  the 
door  opened  and  shut,  and  a  familiar  tread  that  made 
her  heart  leap  echoed  along  the  passage.  Her  first 
impulse  was  to  fly  to  meet  the  comer,  but  a  hand 
seemed  to  hold  her  back;  and  so,  half  reclining, 


LOST   AND   WON.  67 


she  awaited,  •with  her  heart  beating  violently,  the 
appearance  of  him  whose  strange  absence  had  cost 
her  so  many  hours  of  bitter  anguish.  A  moment  or 
two  more,  and  then  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and 
almost  terror,  fell  from  her  lips.  And  well  might 
she  be  startled  at  the  appearance  of  her  husband. 

Pale,  haggard,  covered  with  dust,  and  with  large 
drops  of  perspiration  on  his  face,  Wilkinson  stood 
before  his  wife.  With  a  grieving  look  he  gazed 
upon  her  for  some  moments,  but  did  not  speak. 

"  My  husband  I"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilkinson  as 
soon  as  she  could  recover  herself;  and,  as  she  uttered 
the  words,  she  threw  her  arms  around  him,  and 
buried  her  weeping  face  on  his  bosom. 

But  Wilkinson  tried  to  disengage  her  arms,  say- 
ing, as  he  did  so — 

"  Not  this  ! — not  this,  Mary  !  I  am  unworthy 
of  even  your  feeblest  regard.  Speak  to  me  coldly, 
harshly,  angrily,  if  you  will.  That  I  deserve — but 
nothing  of  kindness,  nothing  of  love.  Oh,  that  I 
were  dead !" 

"  My  husband  !  my  husband !  you  are  dearer  to 
me  than  life !"  was  whispered  in  reply,  as  Mary 
clung  to  him  more  closely. 

Such  evidences  of  love  melted  the  strong  man's 
heart.  He  tried  to  brace  himself  up  against  what, 
in  his  pride,  he  felt  to  be  a  weakness,  but  failed, 
and  leaning  his  face  downward  until  it  rested  upon 
the  head  of  his  wife,  sobbed  aloud. 


68  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WILKINSON,  on  leaving  the  presence  of  the  man 
who,  under  the  guise  of  friendship,  had  so  basely 
led  him  astray,  and  robbed  him — it  was  robbery,  in 
fact,  for  Carlton  had  not  only  enticed  his  victim  to 
drink  until  his  mind  was  confused,  but  had  played 
against  him  with  trick  and  false  dealing — passed, 
not  by  the  bar-room  of  the  hotel,  but  through  one 
of  the  passages,  into  the  open  air,  and  with  hurried 
steps,  and  mind  all  in  a  whirl  of  excitement,  started 
on  foot  for  home.  He  was  not  in  a  state  to  con- 
sider exactly  what  he  was  doing — he  did  not  reflect 
that  he  was  at  least  ten  miles  from  the  city,  and  that 
it  would  take  him  hours  to  walk  that  distance.  His 
predominant  feeling  was  a  desire  to  escape  from  the 
presence  of  the  man  who  had  so  basely  betrayed  and 
almost  ruined  him. 

It  was  a  calm,  clear,  summer  night ;  and  the  full 
moon,  which  had  reached  the  zenith,  shone  with  an 
unusual  radiance.  Not  a  leaf  moved  on  the  forest 
trees,  for  even  the  zephyrs  were  asleep.  All  was 
stillness  and  tranquil  beauty. 

Yet  nature  did  not  mirror  herself  on  the  feelings 
of  Wilkinson,  for  their  surface  was  in  wild  commo- 
tion. The  unhappy  man  was  conscious  only  of  the 
folly  he  had  committed  and  the  wrong  he  had  sus- 


LOST  AND  WON.  69 


tained;  and  thought  only  of  his  culpable 'weakness 
in  having  been  drawn,  by  a  specious  villain,  to  the 
very  verge  of  ruin. 

Onward  he  strode,  toward  the  city,  with  rapid 
pace,  and  soon  his  thoughts  began  to  go  forward 
towards  his  home. 

"  Poor  Mary  I"  he  sighed,  as  the  image  of  his 
wife,  when  she  said  to  him — "  I  count  the  hours 
when  you  are  away,"  arose  before  his  eyes.  Then, 
as  the  image  grew  more  and  more  distinct,  his 
hands  were  clenched  tightly,  and  he  murmured 
through  his  shut  teeth — 

"  W retch  !  cruel  wretch,  that  I  am  !  I  shall  break 
her  heart !  Oh,  why  did  I  not  resist  this  tempta- 
tion ?  Why  was  I  so  thoughtless  of  the  best,  the 
truest,  the  most  loving  friend  I  ever  knew  or  ever 
can  know — my  Mary  I" 

Rapid  as  his  steps  had  been  from  the  first,  the 
thought  of  his  wife  caused  Wilkinson  to  increase  his 
pace,  and  he  moved  along,  the  only  passenger  at 
that  hour  upon  the  road,  at  almost  a  running  speed. 
Soon  the  perspiration  was  gushing  freely  from  every 
pore,  and  this,  in  a  short  time,  relieved  the  still  con- 
fused pressure  on  the  brain  of  the  alcohol  which  had 
been  taken  so  freely  into  his  system.  Thoroughly 
sobered  was  he,  ere  he  had  passed  over  half  the  dis- 
tance ;  and  the  clearer  his  mind  became,  the  more 
troubled  grew  his  feelings. 

"  What,"  he  repeated  to  himself,  over  and  over, 


70  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


"what  if  our  dear  Ella  should  be  in  convulsions 
again  ?" 

So  great  was  the  anguish  of  the  unhappy  man, 
that  he  was  all  unconscious  of  bodily  fatigue.  He 
was  nearly  half  way  to  the  city  when  overtaken  by 
Carlton.  The  latter  called  to  him  three  or  four 
times,  and  invited  him  to  get  up  and  ride ;  but  Wil- 
kinson strode  on,  without  so  much  as  uttering 
a  word  in  reply,  or  seeming  to  hear  what  was 
said  to  him.  So  Carlton,  finding  that  his  proffer 
was  disregarded,  dashed  ahead  and  was  soon  out  of 
sight. 

At  what  hour  Wilkinson  reached  his  home,  and 
how  he  was  received,  has  already  been  seen. 

Too  heavy  a  pressure  lay  on  the  mind  of  the  un- 
happy man,  as  he  met  his  wife  at  the  breakfast 
table  on  the  next  morning,  for  him  even  to  make  an 
effort  at  external  cheerfulness.  There  was  not  only 
the  remembrance  of  his  broken  promise,  and  the 
anguish  she  must  have  suffered  in  consequence  of 
his  absence  for  half  the  night — how  visible,  alas ! 
was  the  effect  written  on  her  pale  face,  and  eyes  still 
red  and  swollen  from  excessive  tears — but  the  re- 
membrance, also,  that  he  had  permitted  himself, 
while  under  the  influence  of  drink,  to  lose  some  two 
thousand  dollars  at  the  gaming  table  !  What  would 
he  not  endure  to  keep  that  blasting  fact  from  the 
knowledge  of  his  single-hearted,  upright  companion? 
He  a  gambler !  How  sick  at  heart  'the  thought 


LOST  AND  WON.  71 


made  him  feel,  when  that  thought  came  into  the 
presence  of  his  wife  ! 

Few  words  passed  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son, but  the  manner  of  each  was  subdued,  gentle, 
and  even  affectionate.  They  parted,  after  the  morn- 
ing meal,  in  silence;  "Wilkinson  to  repair  to  his 
place  of  business,  his  wife  to  busy  herself  in  house- 
hold .duties,  and  await  with  trembling  anxiety  the 
return  of  her  husband  at  the  regular  dinner  hour. 

This  time,  Wilkinson  did  not,  as  usual,  drop  in 
at  a  certain  drinking-house  that  was  in  his  way,  but 
kept  on  direct  to  his  store.  The  reason  of  this 
omission  of  his  habitual  glass  of  brandy  was  not,  we 
are  compelled  to  say,  from  a  purpose  in  his  mind  to 
abandon  the  dangerous  practice,  but  to  avoid  en- 
countering the  man  Carlton,  who  might  happen  to 
be  there.  But  he  was  not  to  keep  clear  of  him  in 
this  way.  Oh,  no.  Carlton  held  his  due-bills  for 
"debts  of  honour,"  calling  for  various  sums,  amount- 
ing in  all,  as  we  have  before  said,  to  about  two 
thousand  dollars,  and  he  was  not  a  person  at  all 
likely  to  forget  this  fact.  Of  this  Wilkinson  was 
made  sensible,  about  an  hour  after  appearing  at  his 
store.  He  was  at  his  desk  musing  over  certain  re- 
sults figured  out  on  a  sheet  of  paper  that  lay  before 
him,  and  which  had  reference  to  payments  to  be 
made  during  the  next  three  or  four  weeks,  when  he 
heard  his  name  mentioned,  and,  turning,  saw  a  stran- 
ger addressing  one  of  his  clerks,  who  had  just  pointed 


72  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

to  where  he  was  sitting.  The  man,  with  his  un- 
pleasant eyes  fixed  upon  Wilkinson,  came,  with  firm 
yet  deliberate  steps,  back  to  his  desk. 

"  Mr.  Wilkinson,  I  believe  ?"  said  he. 

"That  is  my  name."  Wilkinson  tried  to  feel 
self-possessed  and  indifferent.  But  that  was  impos- 
sible, for  he  had  an  instinctive  knowledge  of  the  pur- 
port of  the  visit. 

The  man  thrust  his  hand  into  a  deep  inside  pocket, 
and  abstracted  therefrom  a  huge  pocket-book.  He 
did  not  search  long  in  the  compartments  of  this  for 
what  he  wanted,  but  drew  directly  therefrom  sundry 
small,  variously  shaped  pieces  of  paper,  much  blotted 
and  scrawled  over  in  a  hurried  hand.  Each  of  these 
bore  the  signature  of  Wilkinson,  and  words  de- 
claring himself  indebted  in  a  certain  sum  to  Andrew 
Carlton. 

"I  am  desired  to  collect  these,"  said  the  man 
coldly. 

Much  as  Wilkinson  had  thought,  in  anticipation 
of  this  particular  crisis,  he  was  yet  undecided  as  to 
what  he  should  do.  He  had  been  made  the  victim 
of  a  specious  scoundrel — a  wolf  who  had  come  to 
him  in  sheep's  clothing.  Eunning  back  his  thoughts, 
as  distinctly  as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  do,  to  the 
occurrences  of  the  previous  night,  he  remembered 
much  that  fully  satisfied  him  that  Carlton  had 
played  against  him  most  unfairly;  he  not  only  in- 
duced him  to  drink  until  his  mind  was  confused, 


LOST   AND   WON.  73 


but  had  taken  advantage  of  this  confused  state,  to 
cheat  in  the  grossest  manner.  Some  moments  passed 
ere  he  replied  to  the  application ;  then  he  said — 

"I'm  not  prepared  to  do  any  thing  with  this 
matter  just  now." 

"  My  directions  are  to  collect  these  bills,"  was  the 
simple  reply,  made  in  a  tone  that  expressed  even 
more  than  the  words. 

"  You  may  find  that  more  difficult  than  you  ima- 
gine," replied  Wilkinson,  with  some  impatience. 

"  No — no — we  never  have  much  difficulty  in  col- 
lecting debts  of  this  kind."  There  was  a  meaning 
emphasis  on  the  last  two  words,  which  Wilkinson 
understood  but  too  well.  Still  he  made  answer, 

"  You  may  find  it  a  little  harder  in  the  present 
case  than  you  imagine.  I  never  received  value  for 
these  tokens  of  indebtedness." 

"  You  must  have  been  a  precious  fool  to  have 
given  them  then,"  was  promptly  returned,  with  a 
curling  lip,  and  in  a  tone  of  contempt.  "  They  re- 
present, I  presume,  debts  of  honour  ?" 

"  There  was  precious  little  honour  in  the  trans- 
action," said  Wilkinson,  who,  stung  by  the  manner 
and  words  of  the  collector,  lost  his  self-possession. 
"  If  ever  a  man  was  cheated,  I  was." 

"  Say  that  to  Mr.  Carlton  himself;  it  is  out  of 
place  with  me.  As  I  remarked  a  little  while  ago, 
my  business  is  to  collect  the  sums  called  for  by  these 

due-bills.     Are  you  prepared  to  settle  them  ?" 
m.-7 


THE   TWO   WIVES;    OR 


"  No,"  was  the  decisive  answer. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  collector,  who  had  his  part  to 
play,  and  who,  understanding  it  thoroughly,  showed 
no  inclination  to  go  off  in  a  huff;  "  you  do  not 
clearly  understand  your  position,  nor  the  conse- 
quences likely  to  follow  the  answer  just  given;  that 
is,  if  you  adhere  to  your  determination  not  to  settle 
these  due-bills." 

"You'll  make   the   effort  to  collect  by  law,  I 
presume  ?" 
-    "  Of  course  we  will." 

"  And  get  nothing.  The  law  will  not  recognise 
a  debt  of  this  kind." 

"  How  is  the  law  to  come  at  the  nature  of  the 
debt?" 

"  I  will" — Wilkinson  stopped  suddenly. 

"Will  you?"  quickly  chimed  in  the  collector. 
"  Then  you  are  a  bolder,  or  rather,  more  reckless 
man  than  I  took  you  for.  Your  family,  friends, 
creditors,  and  mercantile  associates  will  be  edified,  no 
doubt,  when  it  comes  to  light  on  the  trial,  under 
your  own  statement,  that  you  have  been  losing  large 
sums  of  money  at  the  gaming  table — over  two 
thousand  dollars  in  a  single  night." 

A  strong  exclamation  came  from  the  lips  of  Wil- 
kinson, who  saw  the  trap  into  which  he  had  fallen, 
and  from  which  there  was,  evidently,  no  safe  mode 
of  escape. 

"It  is  impossible  for  me  to  pay  two  thousand 


LOST   AND   WON.  75 


dollars  now,"  said  he,  after  a  long,  agitated  silence, 
during  which  he  saw,  more  clearly  than  before,  the 
unhappy  position  in  which  he  was  placed.  "  It  will 
be  ruin,  anyhow;  and  if  loss  of  credit  and  character 
are  to  come,  it  might  as  well  come  with  the  most  in 
hand  I  can  retain." 

"  You  are  the  best  judge  of  that,"  said  the  col- 
lector, coldly,  turning  partly  away  as  he  spoke. 

"  Tell  Carlton  that  I  would  like  to  see  him." 

"  He  left  the  city  this  morning,"  replied  the  col- 
lector. 

"Left  the  city?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  and  you  will  perceive  that  all  of  these 
due-bills  have  been  endorsed  to  me,  and  are,  conse- 
quently, my  property,  for  which  I  have  paid  a  valu- 
able consideration.  They  are,  therefore,  legal  claims 
against  you  in  the  fullest  sense,  and  I  am  not  the 
man  to  waive  my  rights,  or  to  be  thwarted  in  my 
purposes.  Are  you  prepared  to  settle  ?" 

"  Not  to-day,  at  least." 

"  I  am  not  disposed  to  be  too  hard  with  you," 
said  the  man,  slightly  softening  in  his  tone ;  "  and 
will  say  at  a  word  what  I  will  do,  and  all  I  will  do. 
You  can  take  up  five  hundred  of  these  bills  to-day, 
five  hundred  in  one  week,  and  the  balance  in  equal 
sums  at  two  and  three  weeks.  I  yield  this  much ; 
but,  understand  me,  it  is  all  I  yield,  and  you  need 
not  ask  for  any  further  consideration. 

"  Well,  sir,  what  do  you  say  ?"    Full  five  minutes 


76  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

after  the  collector  had  given  his  ultimatum,  he  thus 
broke  in  upon  the  perplexed  and  undecided  silence 
of  the  unhappy  victim  of  his  own  weakness  and  folly. 
"Am  I  to  receive  five  hundred  dollars  now,  or  am 
I  not?" 

"  Call  in  an  hour,  and  I  will  be  prepared  to  give 
an  answer,"  said  Wilkinson. 

"  Very  well.  I'll  be  here  in  one  hour  to  a  mi- 
nute/' and  the  man  consulted  his  watch. 

And  to  a  minute  was  he  there. 

"Well,  sir,  have  you  decided  this  matter?"  said 
he,  on  confronting  Wilkinson  an  hour  later.  He 
spoke  with  the  air  of  one  who  felt  indifferent  as  to 
which  way  the  decision  had  been  made.  Without 
replying,  Wilkinson  took  from  under  a  paper  weight 
on  his  desk  a  check  for  five  hundred  dollars,  and 
presented  it  to  the  collector. 

"All  right,"  was  the  satisfied  remark  of  the  latter 
as  he  read  the  face  of  the  check ;  and,  immediately 
producing  his  large  pocket-book,  drew  forth  Wilkin- 
son's due-bills,  and  selecting  one  for  three  hundred 
and  one  for  two  hundred  dollars,  placed  them  in  his 
hands. 

"  On  this  day  one  week  I  will  be  here  again,"  said 
the  man,  impressively,  and,  turning  away,  left  the 
store. 

The  moment  he  was  out  of  sight,  Wilkinson  tore 
the  due-bills  he  had  cancelled  into  a  score  of  pieces, 
and,  as  he  scattered  them  on  the  floor,  said  to  him- 


LOST   AND   WON.  77 


self — "  Perish,  sad  evidences  of  my  miserable  folly  I 
The  lesson  would  be  salutary,  were  it  not  received 
at  too  heavy  a  cost.  Can  I  recover  from  this  ?  Alas  I 
I  fear  not.  Fifteen  hundred  more  to  be  abstracted 
from  my  business,  and  in  three  weeks!  How  can 
it  possibly  be  done?" 

To  a  certain  extent,  the  lesson  was  salutary. 
Ihiring  the  next  three  weeks,  Wilkinson,  who  felt  a 
nervous  reluctance  to  enter  a  drinking-house  lest  he 
should  meet  Carlton,  kept  away  from  such  places, 
and  therefore  drank  but  little  during  the  time ;  nor 
did  he  once  go  out  in  the  evening,  except  in  com- 
pany with  his  wife,  who  was  studious,  all  the  time, 
in  the  science  of  making  home  happy.  But  it  was 
impossible  for  her  to  chase  away  the  shadow  that 
rested  upon  her  husband's  brow. 

Promptly,  on  a  certain  day  in  each  week  of  that 
period,  came  the  man  who  held  the  due-bills  given 
to  Carlton,  leaving  Wilkinson  five  hundred  dollars 
poorer  with  each  visitation — poorer,  unhappier,  and 
more  discouraged  in  regard  to  his  business,  which 
was  scarcely  stanch  enough  to  bear  the  sudden  with- 
drawal of  so  much  money. 

Under  such  circumstances  it  was  impossible  for 
Wilkinson  to  appear  otherwise  than  troubled*  To 
divine  the  cause  of  this  trouble  soon  became  the 
central  purpose  in  the  mind  of  his  wife.  To  all  her 
questions  on  the  subject,  he  gave  evasive  answers ; 
still  she  gathered  enough  to  satisfy  her  that  every 

7* 


78  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


thing  was  not  right  in  regard  to  his  business.  As- 
suming this  to  be  the  case,  she  began  to  think  over 
the  ways  and  means  of  reducing  their  range  of  ex- 
penses, which  were  in  the  neighbourhood  of  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  per  annum.  The  result  will  appear. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  morning  of  the  day  came  on  which  Wilkin- 
son had  to  make  his  last  payment  on  account  of  the 
due-bills  given  to  Carlton.  He  had  nothing  in  bank, 
and  there  were  few  borrowing  resources  not  already 
used  to  the  utmost  limit.  At  ten  o'clock  he  went 
out  to  see  what  could  be  done  in  the  way  of  effect- 
ing further  temporary  loans  among  business  friends. 
His  success  was  not  very  great,  for  at  twelve  o'clock 
he  returned  with  only  two  hundred  dollars.  Carl- 
ton's  agent  had  called  twice  during  the  time,  and 
came  in  a  few  minutes  afterwards. 

"  You're  too  soon  for  me,"  said  Wilkinson,  with 
not  a  very  cheerful  or  welcome  expression  of  coun- 
tenance. 

11  It's  past  twelve,"  returned  the  man. 

"  All  the  same  if  it  were  past  three.  I  haven't 
the  money." 

The  collector's  brow  lowered  heavily. 

"  How  soon  will  you  have  it?" 


LOST  AND   WON.  79 


"  Can't  tell,"  replied  Wilkinson,  fretfully. 

"  That  kind  of  answer  don't  just  suit  me/'  said 
the  man,  -with  some  appearance  of  anger.  "  I've 
been  remarkable  easy  with  you,  and  now" — 

"Easy!"  sharply  ejaculated  Wilkinson.  "Yes; 
as  the  angler  who  plays  his  trout.  You've  already 
received  fifteen  hundred  dollars  of  the  sum  out  of 
which  I  was  swindled,  and  with  that  I  should  think 
both  you  and  your  principal  might  be  content.  Go 
back  to  him,  and  say  that  he  is  about  placing  on  the 
camel's  back  the  pound  that  may  break  it." 

"  I  have  before  told  you,"  was  replied,  "  that  Mr. 
Carlton  has  no  longer  any  control  in  this  matter. 
It  is  I  who  hold  your  obligations ;  they  have  been 
endorsed  to  me,  and  for  a  valuable  consideration ; 
and  be  assured  that  I  shall  exact  the  whole  bond." 

"  If,"  said  Wilkinson,  after  some  moments'  reflec- 
tion, and  speaking  in  a  changed  voice  and  with  much 
deliberation,  "  if  you  will  take  my  note  of  hand  for 
the  amount  of  your  due-bills,  at  six  months  from 
to-day,  I  will  give  it ;  if  not" — 

"  Preposterous !"  returned  the  man,  interrupting 
him. 

"  If  not,"  continued  Wilkinson,  "  you  can  fall 
back  upon  the  law.  It  has  its  delays  and  chances; 
and  I  am  more  than  half  inclined  to  the  belief  that 
I  was  a  fool  not  to  have  left  this  matter  for  a  legal 
decision  in  the  beginning.  I  should  have  gained 
time  at  least." 


80  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


"  If  you  are  so  anxious  to  get  into  court,  you  can 
be  gratified,"  was  answered. 

"  Very  well ;  seek  your  redress  in  law,"  said  Wil- 
kinson, angrily.  "  Occasionally,  gamblers  and  pick- 
pockets get  to  the  end  of  their  rope ;  and,  perhaps, 
it  may  turn  out  so  in  this  instance.  My  only  regret 
now  is,  that  I  didn't  let  the  matter  go  to  court  in 
the  beginning." 

The  man  turned  off  hastily,  but  paused  ere  he 
reached  the  door,  stood  musing  for  a  while,  and  then 
came  slowly  back. 

"  Give  me  your  note  at  sixty  days,"  said  he. 

"  No,  sir,"  was  the  firm  reply  of  Wilkinson.  "  I 
offered  my  note  at  six  months.  For  not  a  day  less 
will  I  give  it ;  and  I  don't  care  three  coppers  whe- 
ther you  take  it  or  no.  I  had  about  as  lief  test  the 
matter  in  a  court  of  justice  as  not." 

The  man  again  made  a  feint  to  retire,  but  again 
returned. 

"Say  three  months,  then." 

"  It  is  useless  to  chaffer  with  me,  sir."  Wilkin- 
son spoke  sternly.  "  I  have  said  what  I  will  do,  and 
I  will  do  nothing  else.  Even  that  offer  I  shall  with- 
draw if  not  accepted  now." 

The  man  seemed  thrown  quite  aback  by  the 
prompt  and  decisive  manner  of  Wilkinson,  and,  after 
some  hesitation  and  grumbling,  finally  consented  to 
yield  up  the  balance  of  the  due-bills  for  a  note  pay- 
able in  six  months. 


LOST   AND   WON.  81 


"Saved  as  by  fire  !"  Such  was  ttie  mental  ejacu- 
lation of  Wilkinson,  as  the  collector  left  the  store. 
"  I  stagger  already  under  the  extra  weight  of  fifteen 
hundred  dollars.  Five  hundred  added  now  would 
come  nigh  to  crushing  rue.  Ah  !  how  dearly  have  I 
paid  for  my  folly  I" 

While  he  still  sat  musing  at  his  desk,  his  friend 
Ellis  came  in,  looking  quite  sober. 

"  I  know  you've  been  pretty  hard  run  for  the  last 
week  or  ten  days,"  said  he,  "but  can't  you  strain  a 
point  and  help  me  a  little  ?  I've  been  running  about 
all  the  morning,  and  am  still  two  hundred  dollars 
short  of  the  amount  to  be  paid  in  bank  to-day." 

"  Fortunately,"  replied  Wilkinson,  "  I  have  just 
the  sum  you  need." 

"  How  long  can  you  spare  it  ?" 

"  Until  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  You  shall  have  it  then,  without  fail." 

The  money  was  counted  out  and  handed  to  Ellis, 
who,  as  he  received  it,  said  in  a  desponding  voice — 

"  Unless  a  man  is  so  fortunate  as  to  be  born  with 
a  silver  spoon  in  his  mouth,  he  finds  nothing  but 
up-hill  work  in  this  troublesome  world.  I  declare  ! 
I'm  almost  discouraged.  I  can  feel  myself  going 
behindhand,  instead  of  advancing." 

"  Don't  say  that.  You're  only  in  a  desponding 
mood,"  replied  Wilkinson,  repressing  his  own  gloomy 
feelings,  and  trying  to  speak  encouragingly. 

"  I  wish  it  were  only  imagination.     It  is  now 


82  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


nearly  ten  years  since  I  was  married,  and  though 
my  business,  at  the  time,  was  good,  and  paying  a 
fair  profit  on  the  light  capital  invested,  it  has,  instead 
of  getting  more  prosperous,  become,  little  and  by 
little,  embarrassed,  until  now — I  speak  this  confi- 
dently, and  to  one  whom  I  know  to  be  a  friend — 
were  every  thing  closed  up,  I  doubt  if  I  should  be 
worth  five  hundred  dollars." 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that.  You  are  only  in  a  gloomy 
state  of  mind." 

"  I  wish  it  were  only  nervous  despondency,  my 
friend.     But  it  is  not  so.     All  the  while  I  am  con- 
scious of  a  retrograde  instead  of  an  advance  move- 
ment." 
• "  There  must  be  a  cause  for  this,"  said  Wilkinson. 

"Of  course.    There  is  no  effect  without  a  cause." 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  is  ?" 

"Yes." 

"A  knowledge  of  our  disease  is  said  to  be  half 
the  cure." 

"  It  has  not  proved  so  in  my  case." 

"  What  is  the  difficulty?" 

"  My  expenses  are  too  high." 
.    "  Your  store  expenses  ?" 

"  No,  my  family  expenses." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  reduce  them." 

"  That  is  easily  said ;  but,  in  my  case,  not  so 
easily  done.  I  cannot  make  my  wife  comprehend 
the  necessity  of  retrenchment." 


LOST   AND   WON.  83 


"  If  you  were  to  explain  the  whole  matter  to  her, 
calmly  and  clearly,  1  am  certain  you  would  not  find 
her  unreasonable.  Her  stake  in  this  matter  is  equal 
to  yours." 

"  Oh,  dear !  Haven't  I  tried,  over  and  over  again  ?" 

"If  Carawill  not  hear  reason,  and  join  with  you 
in  prudent  reforms,  then  it  is  your  duty  to  make 
them  yourself.  What  are  your  annual  expenses  ?" 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  say." 

"  Fifteen  hundred  dollars  ?" 

"  They  have  never  fallen  below  that  since  we  were 
married,  and,  for  the  last  three  years,  have  reached 
the  sum  of  two  thousand  dollars.  This  year  they 
will  even  exceed  that." 

Wilkinson  shook  his  head. 

"  Too  much !  too  much  !" 

"  I  know  it  is.  A  man  in  my  circumstances  has 
no  right  to  expend  even  half  that  sum.  Why,  five 
hundred  dollars  a  year  less  in  our  expenses  since  we 
were  married  would  have  left  me  a  capital  of  five 
thousand  dollars  in  my  business." 

"  And  placed  you  now  on  the  sure  road  to  fortune." 

"Undoubtedly." 

"  Take  my  advice,  and  give  to  Cara  a  full  state- 
ment of  your  affairs.  Do  it  at  once — this  very  day. 
It  has  been  put  off  too  long  already.  Let  there  be 
no  reserve — no  holding  back — no  concealment.  Do 
it  calmly,  mildly,  yet  earnestly,  and  my  word  for  it, 
she  will  join  you,  heart  and  hand,  in  any  measure 


84  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


of  reform  and  safety  that  you  may  propose.  She 
were  less  than  a  woman,  a  wife,  and  a  mother,  not 
to  do  so.  You  wrong  her  by  doubt." 

"  Perhaps  I  do/'  said  Ellis  in  reply.  "  Perhaps 
I  have  never  managed  her  rightly.  I  know  that 
I  am  quick  to  get  out  of  patience  with  her,  if  she 
oppose  my  wishes  too  strongly.  But  I  will  try 
and  overcome  this.  There  is  too  much  at  stake  just 
now." 

The  two  men  parted.  Henry  Ellis  pondered  all 
day  over  the  present  state  of  his  affairs,  and  the  ab- 
solute necessity  there  was  for  a  reduction  of  his  ex- 
penses. The  house  in  which  he  lived  cost  four 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  year.  Two  hundred  dol- 
lars could  easily  be  saved,  he  thought,  by  taking  a 
smaller  house,  where,  if  they  were  only  willing  to 
think  so,  they  might  be  just  as  comfortable  as  they 
now  were.  Beyond  this  reduction  in  rent,  Ellis  did 
not  see  clearly  how  to  proceed.  The  rest  would  have 
mainly  to  depend  upon  his  wife,  who  had  almost  the 
entire  charge  of  the  home  department,  including  the 
expenditures  made  on  account  thereof. 

The  earnestness  with  which  Ellis  pondered  these 
things  lifted  his  thoughts  so  much  above  the  sen- 
sual plane  where  they  too  often  rested,  that  he  felt 
not  the  desire  for  stimulating  drink  returning  at 
certain  hours,  but  passed  through  the  whole  of  the 
afternoon  without  either  thinking  of  or  tasting  his 
usual  glass  of  brandy  and  water.  On  coming  home 


LOST   AND   WON.  85 


to  his  famil}7  in  the  evening,  his  mind  was  as  clear 
as  a  bell.    This,  unhappily,  was  not  always  the  case. 

And  now  for  the  task  of  making  Cara  compre- 
hend the  real  state  of  his  affairs;  and  to  produce  in 
her  a  cheerful,  loving,  earnest  co-operation  in  the 
work  of  salutary  reform.  But  how  to  begin  ?  What 
first  to  say  ?  How  to  disarm  her  opposition  in  the 
outset  ?  These  were  the  questions  over  which  Ellis 
pondered.  And  the  difficulty  loomed  up  larger  and 
larger  the  nearer  he  approached  it.  He  felt  too 
serious;  and  was  conscious  of  this. 

Unhappily,  Cara's  brow  was  somewhat  clouded. 
Ellis  approached  her  with  attempts  at  cheerful  con- 
versation ;  but  she  was  not  in  the  mood  to  feel  in- 
terested in  any  of  the  topics  he  introduced.  The 
tea  hour  passed  with  little  of  favourable  promise. 
The  toast  was  badly  made,  and  the  chocolate  not 
half  boiled.  Mrs.  Ellis  was  annoyed,  and  scolded 
the  cook,  in  the  presence  of  her  husband,  soundly ; 
thus  depriving  him  of  the  little  appetite  with  which 
he  had  come  to  the  table.  Gradually  the  unhappy 
man  felt  his  patience  and  forbearance  leaving  him ; 
and  more  than  once  he  said  to  himself — 

"  It  will  be  worse  than  useless  to  talk  to  her.  She 
will  throw  back  my  words  upon  me,  in  the 'beginning, 
as  she  has  so  often  done  before." 

Tea  over,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ellis  returned  with  their 
children  to  the  sitting-room.  The  former  felt  an 
almost  irrepressible  desire  for  the  cigar,  which 

IIL-8 


86  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


habit  had  rendered  so  nearly  indispensable;  but  he 
denied  himself  the  indulgence,  lest  Cara  should 
make  it  the  occasion  of  some  annoying  remark.  So 
he  took  up  a  newspaper,  and  occupied  himself  there- 
with, until  his  wife  had  undressed  and  put  their  two 
oldest  children  to  bed.  As  she  returned  from  the 
adjoining  room,  where  they  slept,  Ellis  looked  earn- 
estly into  her  face,  to  see  what  hope  there  was  for 
him  in  its  expression.  Her  lips  were  drawn  closely 
together,  her  brows  slightly  contracted,  and  her 
countenance  had  a  fretful,  discontented  expression. 
He  sighed  inwardly,  and  resumed  the  perusal  of  his 
newspaper ;  or,  rather,  affected  to  resume  it,  for  the 
words  that  met  his  eyes  conveyed  to  his  mind  no 
intelligible  ideas. 

Mrs.  Ellis  took  her  work-basket,  and  commenced 
sewing,  while  her  husband  continued  to  hold  the 
newspaper  before  his  face.  After  some  ten  minutes 
of  silence,  the  latter  made  a  remark,  as  a  kind  of 
feeler.  This  was  replied  to  with  what  sounded  more 
like  a  grunt  than  a  vocal  expression. 

"  Cara,"  at  length  said  Ellis,  forcing  himself  to 
the  unpleasant  work  on  hand,  "  I  would  like  to  have 
a  little  plain  talk  with  you  about  my  affairs."  He 
tried,  in  saying  this,  to  seem  not  to  be  very  serious; 
but  his  feelings,  which  had  for  some  time  been  on 
the  rack,  were  too  painfully  excited  to  admit  of  this. 
He  both  looked  and  expressed,  in  the  tones  of  his 
voice,  the  trouble  he  felt. 


LOST   AND  AVON.  87 


Now,  just  at  the  moment  Ellis  said  this,  his 
wife  was  on  the  eve  of  making  the  announcement, 
in  rather  a  peremptory  and  dogmatic  way,  that  if 
he  didn't  give  her  the  money  to  buy  new  parlour 
carpets,  for  which  she  had  been  asking  as  much  as 
a  year  past,  she  would  go  and  order  them,  and  have 
the  bill  sent  in  to  him.  All  day  this  subject  had 
been  in  her  mind,  and  she  had  argued  herself  into 
the  belief  that  her  husband  was  perfectly  able,  not 
only  to  afford  her  new  carpets,  but  also  new  parlour 
furniture ;  and  that  his  unwillingness  to  do  so  arose 
from  a  penurious  spirit.  Such  being  her  state  of 
mind,  she  was  not  prepared  to  see  in  the  words, 
voice,  and  look  of  her  husband  the  real  truth  that  it 
was  so  important  for  her  to  know.  From  the  begin- 
ning of  their  married  life,  she  had  been  disposed  to 
spend  freely,  and  he  to  restrain  her.  In  conse- 
quence, there  was  a  kind  of  feud  between  them ;  and 
now  she  regarded  his  words  as  coming  from  a  desire 
on  his  part  to  make  her  believe  that  he  was  poorer, 
in  the  matter  of  this  world's  goods,  than  was  really 
the  case.  Her  reply,  therefore,  rather  pettishly 
uttered,  was — 

"  Oh  !  I've  heard  enough  about  your  affairs.  No 
doubt  you  are  on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy.  A  man 
who  indulges  his  family  to  the  extent  that  you  do 
must  expect  shipwreck  with  every  coming  gale." 

The  change  of  countenance  and  exclamation  with 
which  this  heartless  retort  was  made  startled  even 


88  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


Cara.  Rising  quickly  to  bis  feet,  and  flinging  upon 
his  wife  a  look  of  reproach,  Ellis  left  the  room.  A 
moment  or  two  afterwards,  the  street-door  shut  after 
him  with  a  heavy  jar. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  he  came  home,  and 
then  he  was  stupid  from  drink. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

How  different  was  it  with  Wilkinson,  when  he 
returned  to  his  wife  on  the  same  evening,  in  a  most 
gloomy,  troubled,  and  desponding  state  of  mind ! 
A  review  of  his  affairs  had  brought  little,  if  any  thing, 
to  encourage  him.  This  dead  loss  of  two  thousand 
dollars  was  more,  he  felt,  than  he  could  bear.  Ere 
this  came  upon  him,  there  was  often  great  difficulty 
in  making  his  payments.  How  should  he  be  able 
to  make  them  now,  with  such  an  extra  weight  to 
carry  ?  The  thought  completely  disheartened  him. 

"I,  too,  ought  to  retrench,"  said  he,  mentally, 
his  thoughts  recurring  to  the  interview  which  had 
taken  place  between  him  and  Ellis.  "In  fact,  I 
don't  see  what  else  is  to  save  me.  But  how  can  I 
ask  Mary  to  give  up  her  present  style  of  living  ? 
How  can  I  ask  her  to  move  into  a  smaller  house  ? 
to  relinquish  one  of  her  domestics,  and  in  other  re- 
spects to  deny  herself,  when  the  necessity  for  so  doing 
is  wholly  chargeable  to  my  folly  ?  It  is  no  use  ;  I 


LOST    AND    VOX.  89 


can't  do  it.  Every  change — every  step  downwards, 
would  rebuke  me.  No — no.  Upon  Mary  must  not 
rest  the  evil  consequences  of  my  insane  conduct. 
Let  me,  alone,  suffer. " 

But  how,  alone,  was  he  to  bear,  without  sinking 
beneath  the  weight,  the  pressure  that  was  upon 
him  ? 

With  the  usual  glad  smile  and  heart-warm  kiss 
Wilkinson  was  greeted  on  his  return  home. 

"  God  bless  you,  Mary  !"  said  he,  with  much  feel- 
ing, as  he  returned  his  wife's  salutation. 

Mrs.  Wilkinson,  saw  that  her  husband  was  in- 
wardly moved  to  a  degree  that  was  unusual.  She 
did  not  remark  thereon,  but  her  manner  was  gentle, 
and  her  tones  lower  and  tenderer  than  usual,  when 
she  spoke  to  him.  But  few  words  passed  between 
them,  until  the  bell  rang  for  tea.  While  sitting  at 
the  table,  the  voice  of  Ella  was  heard,  crying. 

"  Agnes  !"  called  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  going  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs  that  led  down  into  the  kitchen 
— "  I  wish  you  would  go  up  to  Ella,  she  is  awake." 

The  girl  answered  that  she  would  do  as  desired, 
and  Mrs.  Wilkinson  returned  to  her  place  at  the  table. 

"  Where  is  Anna  ?"  asked  Mr.  Wilkinson. 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  smiled  cheerfully,  as  she  replied, 

"  Her  month  was  up  to-day,  and  I  concluded  to 
let  her  go/' 

"  What !"  Wilkinson  spoke  in  a  quick  surprised 
voice. 

8* 


90  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

"  She  was  little  more  than  a  fifth  wheel  to  our 
coach/'  was  replied;  "  and  fifth  wheels  can  easily 
be  dispensed  with." 

"  But  who  is  to  take  care  of  Ella  ?  Who  is  to  do 
the  chamber  work  ?  Not  you  !" 

"Don't  be  troubled  about  that,  my  good  hus- 
band I"  was  answered  with  a  smile.  "  Leave  all  to 
me.  I  am  the  housekeeper." 

"You  are  not  strong  enough,  Mary.  You  will 
injure  your  health." 

"  My  health  is  more  likely  to  suffer  from  lack, 
than  from  excess  of  effort.  The  truth  is,  I  want 
more  .exercise  than  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
taking." 

"  But  the  confinement,  Mary.  Don't  you  see 
that  the  arrangement  you  propose  will  tie  you  down 
to  the  house  ?  Indeed,  I  can't  think  of  it." 

"  I  shall  not  be  confined  in-doors  any  more  than 
I  am  now.  Agnes  will  take  care  of  the  baby  when- 
ever I  wish  to  go  out." 

"  There  is  too  much  work  in  this  house,  Mary," 
said  Mr.  Wilkinson,  in  a  decided  way.  "  You  can- 
not get  along  with  but  a  single  domestic." 

"  There  are  only  you,  and  Ella,  and  I !"  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  leaned  towards  her  husband,  and  looked 
earnestly  into  his  face.  There  was  an  expression  on 
her  countenance  that  was  full  of  meaning;  yet  its 
import  he  did  not  understand. 

"  Only  you,  and  Ella,  and  I  ?"  said  he. 


LOST   AND   WOX.  91 


"  Yes  j  only  \ve  three.  Now,  I  have  been  wonder- 
ing all  day,  John,  whether  tuere  was  any  real  ne- 
cessity for  just  we  three  having  so  large  a  house  to 
live  in.  I  don't  think  there  is.  It  is  an  expense 
for  nothing,  and  makes  work  for  nothing." 

"  How  you  talk,  Mary !" 

"  Don't  I  talk  like  a  sensible  woman  ?"  said  the 
young  wife,  smiling. 

"  We  can't  go  into  a  smaller  house,  dear." 

"  And  why  not,  pray  ?" 

"  Our  position  in  society" — 

Mr.  Wilkinson  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  for  he 
knew  that  argument  would  be  lost  on  his  wife. 

"  We  are  not  rich,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson. 

"  No  one  knows  that  better  than  myself,"  re- 
plied the  husband,  with  more  feeling  than  he  meant 
to  exhibit. 

"  And,  if  the  truth  were  known,  are  living  at  an 
expense  beyond  what  we  can  afford.  Speak  out 
plainly,  dear,  and  say  if  this  is  not  the  case." 

"  I  shouldn't  just  like  to  say  that,"  returned 
Wilkinson ;  yet  his  tone  of  voice  belied  his  words. 

"It  is  just  as  I  supposed,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson, 
growing  more  serious.  "Why  have  you  not  con- 
fided in  me  ?  Why  have  you  not  spoken  freely  to 
me  on  this  subject,  John  ?  Am  I  not  your  wife  ? 
And  am  I  not  ready  to  bear  all  things  and  to  suffer 
all  things  for  your  sake  ?" 

"  You  are  too  serious,  Mary, — too  serious  by  far. 


92  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


I  have  not  said  that  there  was  any  thing  wrong  in 
my  circumstances.  I  have  not  said  that  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  reduce  our  expenses." 

"No  matter,  dear.  We  are,  by  living  in  our 
present  style,  expending  several  hundred  dollars  a 
year  more  than  is  necessary.  This  is  useless.  Do 
you  not  say  so  yourself?" 

"It  is  certainly  useless  to  spend  more  than  is 
necessary  to  secure  comfort." 

'  And  wrong  to  spend  more  than  we  can  afford  ?" 

«  Undoubtedly." 

"  Then  let  us  take  a  smaller  house,  John,  by  all 
means.  I  shall  feel  so  much  better  contented." 

It  was  some  time  before  "Wilkinson  replied. 
When  he  did  so,  he  spoke  with  unusual  emotion. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  wife  I"  said  he,  leaning  towards 
her  and  grasping  her  hand ;  u  you  know  not  how 
great  a  load  you  have  taken  from  my  heart.  The 
change  you  suggest  is  necessary ;  yet  I  never  could 
have  urged  it ;  never  could  have  asked  you  to  give 
up  this  for  an  humbler  dwelling.  How  much 
rather  would  I  elevate  you  to  a  palace  !" 

"  My  husband  !  Why,  why  have  you  concealed 
this  from  me  ?  It  was  not  true  kindness,"  said 
Mrs.  Wilkinson,  in  a  slightly  chiding  voice.  "  It  is 
my  province  to  stand,  sustainingly,  by  your  side ; 
not  to  hang  upon  you,  a  dead  weight." 

But  we  will  not  repeat  all  that  was  said.  Enough 
that,  ere  the  evening,  spent  in  earnest  conversation, 


LOST   AND   WON.  93 


closed,  all  the  preliminaries  of  an  early  removal  and 
reduction  of  expenses  were  settled,  and,  when  Wil- 
kinson retired  for  the  night,  it  was  in  a  hopeful 
spirit.  Light  had  broken  through  a  rift  in  the  dark 
cloud  which  had  so  suddenly  loomed  up;  and  he 
saw,  clearly,  the  way  of  escape  from  the  evil  that 
threatened  to  overwhelm  him. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

TWELVE  o'clock  of  the  day  on  which  Ellis  was 
to  return  the  two  hundred  dollars  borrowed  of  Wil- 
kinson came,  and  yet  he  did  not  appear  at  the  store 
of  the  latter,  who  had  several  payments  to  make, 
and  depended  on  receiving  the  amount  due  from  his 
friend. 

"  Has  Mr.  Ellis  been  here  ?"  asked  Wilkinson  of 
his  clerk,  coming  in  about  noon  from  a  rather  fruit- 
less effort  to  obtain  money. 

The  clerk  replied  in  the  negative. 

"Nor  sent  over  his  check  for  two  hundred  dollars?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Step  down  to  his  store,  then,  if  you  please,  and 
say  to  him  from  me  that  he  mustn't  forget  the  sum 
to  be  returned  to-day,  as  I  have  two  notes  yet  in 
bank.  Say  also,  that  if  he  has  any  thing  over,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  have  the  use  of  it." 


94  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


The  clerk  departed  on  his  errand.  In  due  time  he 
returned,  but  with  no  money  in  his  possession. 

"  Did  you  see  Mr.  Ellis  ?"  asked  Wilkinson. 

"  No,  sir,"  was  replied.  "  He  hasn't  been  at  the 
store  to-day-" 

"Not  to-day!" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?     Is  he  sick  ?" 

"  His  clerk  didn't  say." 

Taking  up  his  hat,  Wilkinson  left  his  store  hur- 
riedly. In  a  few  minutes  he  entered  that  of  his 
friend. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Ellis  ?"  he  inquired. 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  was  answered  by  the  clerk. 

"  Has  he  been  here  this  morning  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  He  must  be  sick.  Have  you  sent  to  his  house 
to  make  inquiry  ?" 

"  Not  yet.   I  have  expected  him  all  the  morning." 

"  He  was  here  yesterday?" 

"Not  until  late  in  the  afternoon." 

"  Indeed  !     Did  he  complain  of  not  being  well  ?" 

"  No,  sir.     But  he  didn't  look  very  well." 

There  was  something  in  the  manner  of  the  clerk 
which  Wilkinson  did  not  understand  clearly  at  first. 
But  all  at  once  it  flashed  upon  his  mind  that  Ellis 
might,  in  consequence  of  some  trouble  with  his  wife, 
have  suddenly  abandoned  himself  to  drink.  With  this 
thought  came  the  remembrance  of  what  had  passed 


LOST   AND   WON.  95 


between  them  two  days  before;  and  this  but  con- 
firmed his  first  impression. 

"  If  Mr.  Ellis  comes  in/'  said  he,  after  some  mo- 
ments of  hurried  thought,  "  tell  him  that  I  would 
like  to  see  him." 

The  clerk  promised  to  do  so. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  send  to  his  house?"  suggested 
Wilkinson,  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  store.  "  He 
may  be  sick." 

"  I  will  do  so,"  replied  the  clerk,  and  Wilkinson 
retired,  feeling  by  no  means  comfortable.  By  this 
time  it  was  nearly  one  o'clock,  and  six  or  seven 
hundred  dollars  were  yet  required  to  make  him  safe 
for  that  day's  payments.  The  failure  of  Ellis  to 
keep  his  promise  laid  upon  him  an  additional  bur- 
den, and  gradually  caused  a  feeling  of  despondency 
to  creep  in  upon  him.  Instead  of  making  a  new  and 
more  earnest  effort  to  raise  the  money,  he  went  back 
to  his  store,  and  remained  there  for  nearly  half 
an  hour,  in  a  brooding,  disheartened  state  of  mind.  A 
glance  at  the  clock,  with  the  minute-hand  alarm- 
ingly near  the  figure  2,  startled  him  at  length  from 
his  dreaming  inactivity  j  and  he  went  forth  again  to 
raise,  if  possible,  the  money  needed  to  keep  his  name 
from  commercial  dishonour.  He  was  successful; 
but  there  were  only  fifteen  minutes  in  his  favour 
when  the  exact  sum  he  needed  was  made  up,  and 
his  notes  taken  out  of  bank. 

Two  o'clock  was  Mr.  Wilkinson's  dinner  hour, 


THE   TWO   WIVES;    OR, 


and  he  had  always,  before,  so  arranged  his  bank 
business  as  to  have  his  notes  taken  up  long  enough 
before  that  time  to  be  ready  to  leave  promptly  for 
home.  But  for  the  failure  of  Ellis  to  keep  his 
promise,  it  would  have  been  so  on  this  day. 

"  It's  hardly  worth  while  to  go  home  now,"  said 
he,  as  he  closed  his  cash  and  bill  books,  after  making 
some  required  entries  therein.  "  Mary  has  given 
me  over  long  ago.  And,  besides,  I  don't  feel  in  the 
mood  of  mind  to  see  her  just  now.  I  can't  look 
cheerful,  to  save  me;  and  I  have  already  called  too 
many  shadows  to  her  face  to  darken  it  with  any  more. 
By  evening  I  will  recover  myself,  and  then  can 
meet  her  with  a  brighter  countenance.  No,  I  won't 
go  home  now.  I'll  stop  around  to  Elder's,  and  get 
a  cut  of  roast  beef." 

Wilkinson  had  taken  up  his  hat,  and  was  moving 
down  the  store,  when  a  suggestion  that  came  to  his 
mind  made  him  pause.  It  was  this : 

"  But  is  not  Mary  waiting  for  me,  and  will  not 
my  absence  for  the  whole  day  cause  her  intense 
anxiety  and  alarm  ?  I  ought  to  go  home." 

And  now  began  an  argument  in  his  thoughts. 
The  fact  was,  a  sense  of  exhaustion  of  body  and 
depression  of  spirits  had  followed  the  effort  and 
trouble  of  the  day,  and  Wilkinson  felt  a  much  stronger 
desire  for  something  stimulating  to  drink  than  he  did 
for  food.  Elder's  was  a  drinking  as  well  as  an  eating- 
house;  and  in  deciding  to  go  there,  instead  of  re- 


LOST  AND   WON.  97 


turning  home,  the  real  influence,  although  he  did 
not  perceive  it  to  be  so,  was  the  craving  felt  for  a 
glass  of  brandy.  And  now  came  the  conflict  between 
appetite  and  an  instinctive  sense  of  what  was  due 
both  to  himself  and  his  wife. 

"  It  will  only  put  her  to  trouble  if  I  go  home 
now."  Thus  he  sought  to  justify  himself  in  doing 
what  his  better  sense  clearly  condemned  as  wrong. 

"  It  will  rather  relieve  her  from  trouble/'  was 
quickly  answered  to  this. 

For  a  little  while  Wilkinson  stood  undecided,  then 
slowly  retired  to  a  remote  part  of  the  store,  took  off 
his  hat,  and  sat  down  to  debate  the  point  at  issue  in 
his  mind  more  coolly. 

"  I  will  go  home  early/'  said  he  to  himself. 

"  Why  not  go  home  now  ?"  was  instantly  replied. 

"  It  is  too  late;  Mary  has  given  me  up  long  ago." 

"  She  will  be  extremely  anxious." 

"  I  can  explain  all." 

"  Better  do  it  now  than  two  or  three  hours  later: 
poor  Mary  has  suffered  enough  already." 

This  last  suggestion  caused  the  image  of  his  wife 
to  come  up  before  the  mind  of  Wilkinson  very  dis- 
tinctly. He  saw,  now,  her  smile  of  winning  love ; 
now,  the  sad  drooping  of  her  countenance,  as  he 
turned  to  leave  her  alone  for  an  evening;  now,  the 
glance  of  anxiety  and  fear  with  which  she  so  often 
greeted  his  return;  and  now,  her  pale,  grief-stricken 

face,  after  some  one  of  his  too  many  lapses  from  the 
in.— e 


98  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


right  way.  And,  in  imagination,  his  thoughts  went 
to  his  home  in  the  present  moment.  What  did  he 
see  ?  A  waiting,  anxious,  troubled  wife,  now  sitting 
with  fixed  and  dreamy  eyes;  now  moving  about  with 
restless  steps;  and  now  standing  at  the  street-door, 
eagerly  straining  her  eyes  to  see  in  the  distance  his 
approaching  form.  With  such  images  of  his  wife 
came  no  repulsive  thought  to  the  mind  of  Wilkin- 
son. Ever  loving,  tender,  patient,  forbearing,  and 
true-hearted  had  Mary  been.  Not  once  in  the  whole 
of  their  married  life  had  she  jarred  the  chord  that 
bound  them  together,  with  a  touch  of  discord.  He 
could  only  think  of  her,  therefore,  with  love,  and  a 
feeling  of  attraction ;  and  this  it  was  that  saved  him 
in  the  present  hour.  Starting  up  suddenly,  he  said, 
"  I  will  go  home  :  why  have  I  hesitated  an  instant  ? 
My  poor  Mary !  Heaven  knows  you  have  already 
suffered  enough  through  my  short-comings  and 
wanderings  from  the  way  of  right  and  duty.  I  am 
walking  a  narrow  path,  with  destruction  on  either 
hand  :  if  I  get  over  safely,  it  will  be  through  you  as 
my  sustaining  angel." 

A  skilful  limner,  at  least  in  this  instance,  was  the 
imagination  of  Wilkinson.  Much  as  it  had  been  pic- 
tured to  his  thoughts  was  the  scene  at  home.  Poor 
Mary !  with  what  trembling  anxiety  did  she  wait  and 
hope  for  her  husband's  coming,  after  the  usual  hour 
for  his  return  had  passed.  Now  she  sat  motionless, 
gazing  on  some  painful  image  that  was  presented  to 


LOST   AND   AVON.  99 


her  mind;  now  she  moved  about  the  room  from  an 
unquietness  of  spirit  that  would  not  let  her  be  still; 
and  now  she  bent  her  ear  towards  the  street,  and 
listened  almost  breathlessly  for  the  sound  of  her  hus- 
band's footsteps.  Thus  the  time  passed  from  two 
until  three  o'clock,  the  dinner  yet  unserved. 

"  Oh,  -what  can  keep  him  away  so  long  ?" 

How  many,  many  times  was  this  spoken  audibly ! 
Now  her  heart  beat  with  a  quick,  panting  motion,  as 
the  thought  of  some  accident  to  her  husband  flitted 
through  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson;  now  its  irre- 
gular motion  subsided,  and  it  lay  almost  still,  with 
a  heavy  pressure;  for  the  fear  lest  he  had  again 
been  tempted  from  the  path  of  sobriety  came  with 
its  deep  and  oppressive  shadow. 

And  thus  the  lingering  moments  passed.  Three 
o'clock  came,  and  yet  Mr.  Wilkinson  was  absent. 

"  I  can  bear  this  suspense  no  longer,"  said  the 
unhappy  wife.  "  Something  has  happened." 

And  as  she  said  this,  she  went  quickly  into  her 
chamber  to  put  into  execution  some  suddenly -formed 
resolution.  Opening  a  wardrobe,  she  took  there- 
from her  bonnet  and  a  shavrl.  But,  ere  she  had 
thrown  the  latter  around  her  shoulders,  she  paused, 
with  the  words  on  her  lips — 

"If  business  should  have  detained  him  at  his 
store,  how  will  my  appearance  there  affect  him  ?  I 
must  think  of  that.  I  do  not  want  him  to  feel  that 
I  have  lost  confidence  in  him." 


THE    TWO    WIVES;    OR, 


While  Mrs.  Wilkinson  stood,  thus  musing,  her 
ear  caught  the  sound  of  her  husband's  key  in  the 
lock  of  the  street-door.  How  quickly  were  her 
bonnet  and  shawl  returned  to  their  places  !  How 
instant  and  eager  were  her  efforts  to  suppress  all 
signs  of  anxiety  at  the  prolonged  absence  ! 

"  He  must  not  see  that  I  have  been  over-anxious," 
she  murmured. 

The  street-door  closed;  Mr.  Wilkinson's  well- 
known  tread  sounded  along  the  passage  and  up  the 
stairway.  With  what  an  eager  discrimination  was 
the  ear  of  his  wife  bent  towards  him  for  a  sign  that 
would  indicate  the  condition  in  which  he  returned 
to  her  !  How  breathless  was  her  suspense  !  A 
few  moments,  and  the  door  of  her  room  opened. 

"  Why,  John  I"  said  she,  with  a  pleasant  smile, 
and  a  tone  so  well  disguised  that  it  betrayed  little 
of  the  sea  of  agitation  below — "  what  has  kept  you 
BO  late  ?  I  was  really  afraid  something  had  hap- 
pened. Have  you  been  sick ;  or  did  business  detain 
you  1" 

"  It  was  business,  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Wilkinson, 
as  he  took  the  hand  which  Mary  placed  within  his. 
The  low,  nervous  tremour  of  that  hand  he  instantly 
perceived,  and  as  instantly  comprehended  its  mean- 
ing. She  had  been  deeply  anxious,  but  was  now 
seeking  to  conceal  this  from  him.  He  understood 
it  all,  and  was  touched  by  the  fact. 

"  I  ought  to  have  sent  you  word,"  said  he,  as  he 


LOST   AND   WON.  101 


kissed  her  with  more  than  usual  tenderness  of  man- 
ner.' "  It  was  wrong  in  me.  But  I've  been  very 
hard  put  to  it  to  take  up  my  notes,  and  didn't  succeed 
until  near  the  closing  of  bank  hours.  I  loaned 
Ellis  some  money,  which  he  was  to  return  to  me  to- 
day ;  but  his  failing  to  do  so  put  me  to  a  good  deal 
of  inconvenience." 

"  Oh,  I'm  sorry,"  was  the  sympathizing  response. 
"  But  how  came  Mr.  Ellis  to  disappoint  you  ?" 

"  I  don't  exactly  know.  He  hasn't  been  at  his 
store  to-day." 

"  Is  he  sick  ?" 

"  Worse,  I'm  afraid." 

"  How,  worse  ?" 

"  His  habits  have  not  been  very  good  of  late." 

"  Oh  !  how  sad  !    His  poor  wife  !" 

This  was  an  almost  involuntary  utterance  on  the 
part  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson. 

"  Her  poor  husband,  rather  say,"  was  the  reply. 
"  The  fact  is,  if  Ellis  goes  to  ruin,  it  will  be  his 
wife's  fault.  She  has  no  sympathy  with  him,  no 
affectionate  consideration  for  him.  A  thoroughly 
selfish  woman,  she  merely  regards  the  gratification 
of  her  own  desires,  and  is  ever  making  home  repul- 
sive, instead  of  attractive." 

"  You  must  be  mistaken." 

"  No.   Ellis  often  complains  to  me  of  her  conduct." 

"  Why,  John  !  I  can  scarcely  credit  such  a  thing." 

"  Doubtless  it  is  hard  for  you  to  imagine  any 


102  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR; 


woman  guilty  of  such  unwifelike  conduct.  Yet 
such  is  the  case.  Many  a  night  has  Ellis  spent  at 
a  tavern,  which,  but  for  Cara's  unamiable  temper, 
would  have  been  spent  at  home." 

"  Ah  !  she  will  have  her  reward,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Wilkinson. 

"  And  you  yours,"  was  the  involuntary  but  silent 
ejaculation  of  Wilkinson. 

Ere  further  remark  was  made,  the  dinner-bell 
rang,  and  Mr.  Wilkinson  and  his  wife  repaired  to 
the  dining-room. 

It  was  not  possible  for  the  former  to  endure  the 
pressure  that  was  on  his  feelings  without  letting  the 
fact  of  its  existence  betray  itself  in  his  counte- 
nance ;  and  Mary,  whose  eyes  were  scarcely  a  mo- 
ment from  her  husband's  face,  soon  saw  that  his 
mind  was  ill  at  ease. 

"  How  much  did  Mr.  Ellis  borrow  of  you  ?"  she 
asked,  soon  after  they  had  taken  their  places  at  the 
table. 

"  Two  hundred  dollars,"  was  replied. 

"  No  more  ?"  The  mind  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson  was 
evidently  relieved,  at  knowing  the  smallness  of  the 
sum. 

"  True,  it  isn't  much,"  said  Wilkinson.  "  But 
even  a  small  sum  is  of  great  importance  when  we 
have  a  good  deal  to  pay,  and  just  lack  that  amount, 
after  gathering  in  all  our  available  resources.  And 
that  was  just  my  position  to-day." 


LOST   AND   WON.  103 


"  Why  didn't  you  call  on  me?"  Mary  smiled, 
with  evident  meaning  as  she  said  this. 

"  On  you  I"  Wilkinson  looked  at  her  with  a 
slight  air  of  surprise. 

"  Yes,  on  me.  I  think  I  could  have  made  you 
up  that  sum." 

"You!" 

A  bright  gleam  went  over  the  face  of  Mrs.  Wil- 
kinson, as  she  saw  the  surprise  of  her  husband. 

"Yes,  me.  Why  not?  You  have  always  been 
liberal  in  your  supplies  of  money,  and  it  is  by  no 
means  wonderful  that  I  should  have  saved  a  little. 
The  fact  is,  John,  I've  never  spent  my  entire  income ; 
I  always  made  it  a  point  of  conscience  to  keep  as 
far  below  it  as  possible." 

"  Mary  !"  Beyond  this  simple  ejaculation,  Wil- 
kinson could  not  go,  but  sat,  with  his  eyes  fixed 
wonderingly  on  the  face  of  his  wife. 

"  It  is  true,  dear,"  she  answered,  in  her  loving 
gentle  way.  "  I  haven't  counted  up  lately  j  but,  if 
I  do  not  err,  I  have  twice  the  sum  you  needed  to- 
day ;  and,  what  is  more,  the  whole  is  at  your  service. 
So  don't  let  this  matter  of  Ellis's  failure  to  return 
you  the  sum  borrowed,  trouble  you  in  the  least.  If 
it  never  comes  back  to  you,  the  loss  will  be  made 
up  in  another  quarter." 

It  was  some  moments  before  Wilkinson  could 
make  any  answer.  At  last,  dropping  the  knife  and 
fork  which  he  held  in  his  hands,  he  started  from  his 


104  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


place,  and  coming  round  to  where  his  wife  sat,  drew 

his  arms  around  her,  and  as  he  pressed  his  lips  to 

hers,  said  with  an  unsteady  voice — 

"  God  bless  you,  Mary  !     You  are  an  angel  I" 
Had  she  not  her  reward  in  that  happy  moment  ? 

Who  will  say  nay  ? 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ON  the  morning  that  followed  the  fruitless  attempt 
of  Henry  Ellis  to  make  his  wife  comprehend  the 
necessity  that  existed  for  an  immediate  reduction  in 
their  household  expenditures,  he  did  not  get  up 
until  nearly  ten  o'clock.  For  at  least  an  hour  be- 
fore rising,  he  was  awake,  suffering  in  both  body 
and  mind;  for  the  night's  debauch  had  left  him, 
as  was  usually  the  case,  with  a  most  violent  head- 
ache. During  all  the  time  he  heard,  at  intervals, 
the  voice  of  Cara  in  the  adjoining  room,  talking  to 
or  scolding  at  the  children;  but  not  once  during 
the  time  did  she  come  into  the  chamber  where  he 
lay.  He  felt  it  as  a  total  want  of  interest  or  affec- 
tion on  her  part.  He  had  done  wrong ;  he  felt 
that ;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  also  felt  that  Cara 
had  her  share  of  the  blame  to  bear.  If  she  had 
only  manifested  some  feeling  for' him,  some  interest 
in  him,  he  would  have  been  softened ;  but,  as  she 
did  cot,  by  keeping  entirely  away,  show  that  she 


LOST  AND  WON.  105 


thought  or  cared  for  him,  the  pure  waters  of  right 
feeling,  that  were  gushing  up  in  his  mind,  were 
touched  with  the  gall  of  bitterness. 

Rising  at  length,  Ellis  began  dressing  himself, 
purposely  making  sufficient  noise  to  reach  the  ears 
of  his  wife.  But  she  did  not  make  her  appearance. 

Two  doors  led  from  the  chamber  in  which  he 
was.  One  communicated  with  the  adjoining  room, 
used  as  a  nursery,  and  the  other  with  the  passage. 
After  Ellis  had  dressed  and  shaved  himself,  he  was, 
for  a  short  time,  undecided  whether  to  enter  the 
nursery,  in  which  were  his  wife  and  children,  or  to 
pass  through  the  other  door,  and  leave  the  house 
without  seeing  them. 

"  I  shall  only  get  my  feelings  hurt,"  said  he,  as  he 
stood  debating  the  point.  "It's  a  poor  compensa- 
tion for  trouble  and  the  lack  of  domestic  harmony, 
to  get  drunk,  I  know ;  and  I  ought  to  be,  and  am, 
ashamed  of  my  own  folly.  Oh  dear  I  what  is  to  be- 
come of  me  ?  Why  will  not  Cara  see  the  evil  con- 
sequences of  the  way  she  acts  upon  her  husband  ? 
If  I  go  to  destruction,  and  the  chances  are  against 
me,  the  sin  will  mainly  rest  upon  her.  Yet  why 
should  I  say  this  ?  Am  I  not  man  enough  to  keep 
sober  ?  Yes" — thus  he  went  on  talking  to  himself 
— "  but  if  she  will  not  act  in  some  sort  of  unity 
with  me,  I  shall  be  ruined  in  my  business.  It  will 
never  do  to  maintain  our  present  expensive  mode  of 
living ;  and  she  will  never  hear  to  a  change." 


106  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

Just  at  tins  moment  an  angry  exclamation  from 
the  lips  of  Mrs.  Ellis  came  sharply  on  the  ears  of 
her  husband,  followed  by  the  whipping  and  crying 
of  one  of  the  children,  who  had,  as  far  as  Ellis  could 
gather,  from  what  was  said,  overset  his  mother's 
work-basket. 

"No  use  for  me  to  go  in  there,"  muttered  the 
unhappy  man.  "  I  shall  only  increase  the  storm  ; 
and  I've  had  storms  enough  !" 

So  he  went  from  the  chamber  by  way  of  the 
passage,  descended  to  the  entry  below,  and,  taking 
up  his  hat,  left  the  house. 

Now,  of  all  things  in  the  world,  in  the  peculiar 
state  of  body  and  mind  in  which  Ellis  then  was,  did 
he  want  a  good  strong  cup  of  coffee  at  his  own  table, 
and  a  kind,  forbearing,  loving  wife  to  set  it  before 
him.  These  would  have  given  to  his  body  and  to 
his  mind  just  what  both  needed,  for  the  trials  and 
temptations  of  the  day ;  and  they  would  have  saved 
him,  at  least  for  the  day,  perhaps  for  life ;  for  the 
pivot  upon  which  the  whole  of  a  man's  future  destiny 
turns  is  often  small,  and  scarcely  noticed. 

As  Ellis  stepped  from  his  door,  and  received  the 
fresh  air  upon  his  face  and  in  his  lungs,  he  was  in- 
stantly conscious  of  a  want  in  his  system,  and  a 
craving  for  something  to  supply  that  want.  Having 
taken  no  breakfast,  the  feeling  was  not  to  be  won- 
dered at.  Ellis  understood  its  meaning,  in  part, 
and  took  the  nearest  way  to  an  eating-house,  where 


LOST   AND   WON.  107 


he  ordered  something  to  eat.  For  him,  it  was  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  under  the  circum- 
stances, to  call  for  something  at  the  bar  while  his 
breakfast  was  preparing.  He  felt  better  after  taking 
a  glass  of  brandy. 

Ellis  had  finished  his  breakfast,  and  was  standing 
at  the  bar  with  a  second  glass  of  liquor  in  his  hand, 
when  he  was  accosted  in  a  familiar  manner  by  the 
same  individual  who  had  lured  Wilkinson  to  the 
gaming-table. 

"  Ah,  my  boy !  how  are  you  ?"  said  Carlton, 
grasping  the  hand  of  Ellis  and  shaking  it  heartily. 
"  Glad  to  see  you,  'pon  my  word  !  Where  do  you 
keep  yourself?" 

"  You'll  generally  find  me  at  my  store  during 
business  hours,"  replied  Ellis. 

"  What  do  you  call  business  hours  1"  was  asked 
by  Carlton. 

"  From  eight  or  nine  in  the  morning  until  six  or 
seven  in  the  evening." 

"  Yes — yes — yes  !  With  you  as  with  every  other 
'business'  man  I  know.  Business  every  thing — 
living  nothing.  You'll  get  rich,  I  suppose;  but,  by 
the  time  your  sixty  or  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
are  safely  invested  in  real  estate  or  good  securities, 
health  will  have  departed,  never  to  return." 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that,  I  presume,"  returned  Ellis. 

"  How  can  it  be  otherwise  ?  The  human  body  is 
not  made  of  iron  and  steel ;  and,  if  it  were,  it  would 


108  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

never  stand  the  usage  it  receives  from  some  men, 
you  among  the  number.  For  what  are  the  pure  air 
and  bright  sunshine  made  ?  To  be  enjoyed  only  by 
the  birds  and  beasts  ?  Man  is  surely  entitled  to  his 
share ;  and  if  he  neglects  to  take  it,  he  does  so  to 
his  own  injury.  You  don't  look  well.  In  fact,  I 
never  saw  you  look  worse ;  and  I  noticed,  when  I 
took  your  hand,  that  it  was  hot.  Now,  my  good 
fellow  !  this  is  little  better  than  suicide  on  your 
part;  and  if  I  do  not  mistake,  you  are  too  good  a 
Christian  to  be  guilty  of  self-murder.  Why  don't 
you  ride  out  and  take  the  air  ?  You  ought  to  do 
this  daily." 

"  Too  expensive  a  pleasure  for  me,"  said  Ellis. 
"In  the  first  place,  with  me  time  is  money,  and,  in 
the  second  place,  I  have  no  golden  mint-drops  to 
exchange  for  fast  horses." 

"I  have  a  fine  animal  at  your  service,"  replied 
the  tempter.  "  Happy  to  let  you  use  him  at  any 
time." 

"  Much  obliged  for  the  offer ;  and  when  I  can 
run  away  from  business  for  a  few  hours,  will  avail 
myself  of  it." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  a  ride  this  morning  ?  I'm 
going  a  few  miles  over  into  Jersey,  and  should  like 
your  company  above  all  things." 

"I  hardly  think  I  can  leave  the  store  to-day," 
replied  Ellis.  "  Let  me  see :  have  I  any  thing  in 
the  way  of  a  note  to  take  up  ?  I  believe  not." 


LOST   AND   WON.  109 


v  "  You  say  yes,  then  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  It  doesn't  just  seem 
right." 

"  Nonsense  !  It  is  wonderful  how  this  business 
atmosphere  does  affect  a  man's  perceptions  !  He  can 
see  nothing  but  the  dollar.  Every  thing  is  brought 
down  to  a  money  valuation." 

We  will  not  trace  the  argument  further.  Enough 
that  the  tempter  was  successful,  and  that  Ellis,  in- 
stead of  going  to  his  store,  rode  out  with  Carlton. 

He  was  not,  of  course,  home  at  his  usual  dinner- 
hour.  It  was  between  three  and  four  o'clock  when 
he  appeared  at  his  place  of  business,  the  worse  for 
his  absence,  in  almost  every  sense  of  the  word.  He 
had  been  drinking,  until  he  was  half  stupid,  and 
was  a  loser  at  the  gaming-table  of  nearly  six  hun- 
dred dollars.  A  feeble  effort  was  made  by  him  to 
go  into  an  examination  of  the  business  of  the  day; 
but  he  found  it  impossible  to  fix  his  mind  thereon, 
and  so  gave  up  the  attempt.  He  remained  at  his 
store  until  ready  to  close  up  for  the  day,  and  then 
turned  his  steps  homeward. 

By  this  time  he  was  a&good  deal  sobered,  and 
sadder  for  his  sobriety;  for,  as  his  mind  became 
clearer,  he  remembered,  with  more  vividness,  the 
events  of  the  day,  and  particularly  the  fact  of  having 
lost  several  hundred  dollars  to  his  pretended  friend, 
Carlton. 

"Whither  am  I  going ?     Where  is  this  to  end  ?" 

UI.-10 


110  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


was  his  shuddering  ejaculation,  as  the  imminent 
peril  of  his  position  most  vividly  presented  itself. 

How  hopelessly  he  wended  his  reluctant  way 
homeward!  There  was  nothing  to  lean  upon  there. 
No  strength  of  ever-enduring  love,  to  be,  as  it  were, 
a  second  self  to  him  in  his  weakness.  No  out- 
stretched arm  to  drag  him,  with  something  of  super- 
human power,  out  of  the  miry  pit  into  which  he  had 
fallen;  but,  instead,  an  indignant  hand  to  thrust 
him  farther  in. 

"God  help  me!"  he  sighed,  in  the  very  bitter- 
ness of  a  hopeless  spirit;  "for  there  is  no  aid  in 
man." 

Ah !  if,  in  his  weakness,  he  had  only  leaned,  in 
true  dependence,  on  Him  he  thus  asked  to  help 
him;  if  he  had  but  resisted  the  motions  of  evil  in 
himself,  as  sins  against  his  Maker,  and  resisted  them 
in  a  determined  spirit,  he  need  not  have  fallen; 
strength  would,  assuredly,  have  been  given. 

The  nearer  Ellis  drew  £o  his  home,  the  more  un- 
happy he  felt  at  the  thought  of  meeting  his  wife. 
After  having  left  the  house  without  seeing  her  in  the 
morning,  and  then  remaning  from  home  all  day,  he 
had  no  hope  of  a  kind  reception. 

"  It's  no  use  I"  he  muttered  to  himself,  stopping 
suddenly,  when  within  a  square  of  his  house.  "  I 
can't  meet  Cara;  she  will  look  coldly  at  me,  or 
frown,  or  speak  cutting  words ;  and  I'm  in  no  state 
of  mind  to  bear  any  thing  patiently  just  now.  I've 


LOST   AND   WON.  Ill 


done  wrong,  I  know — very  wrong ;  but  I  don't  want 
it  thrown  into  my  face.  Oh,  dear !  I  am  beset 
within  and  without,  behind  and  before,  and  there  is 
little  hope  for  me." 

Overcoming  this  state  of  indecision,  Ellis  forced 
himself  to  go  home.  On  entering  the  presence  of 
his  wife,  he  made  a  strong  effort  to  compose  himself, 
and,  when  he  met  Cara,  he  spoke  to  her  in  a  cheer- 
ful tone  of  voice.  How  great  an  effort  it  cost  him 
to  do  this,  considering  all  the  circumstances  by 
which  he  was  surrounded,  the  reader  may  easily 
imagine.  And  what  was  his  reception  ? 

"  Found  your  way  home  at  last !" 

These  were  the  words  with  which  Cara  received 
her  husband;  and  they  were  spoken  in  a  sharp,  de- 
riding tone  of  voice.  The  day's  doubt,  suspense, 
and  suffering,  had  not  quieted  the  evil  spirit  in  her 
heart.  She  was  angry  with  her  husband,  and  could 
not  restrain  its  expression. 

A  bitter  retort  trembled  on  the  tongue  of  Ellis; 
but  he  checked  its  utterance,  and,  turning  from  his 
wife,  took  one  of  his  children  in  his  arms.  The 
sphere  of  innocence  that  surrounded  the  spirit  of 
that  child  penetrated  his  heart,  and  touched  his 
feelings  with  an  emotion  of  tenderness. 

"  Oh,  wretched  man  that  I  am  I"  he  sighed,  in  the 
bitterness  of  a  repentant  and  self-upbraiding  spirit. 
So  much  dependent  on  me,  and  yet  as  weak  as  a 
reed  swaying  in  the  wind." 


112  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


How  much  that  weak,  tempted,  suffering  man, 
just  trembling  on  the  brink  of  destruction,  needed  a 
true-hearted,  forbearing,  long-suffering  wife  !  Such 
a  one  might — yes,  would — have  saved  him.  By 
the  strong  cords  of  love  she  would  have  held  him  to 
her  side. 

Several  times  Ellis  tried  to  interest  Cara  in  con- 
versation; but  to  every  remark  she  replied  only  in 
monosyllables.  In  fact  she  was  angry  with  him,  and, 
not  feeling  kindly,  she  would  not  speak  kindly.  All 
day  she  had  suffered  deeply  on  his  account.  A  thou- 
sand fears  had  harassed  her  mind.  She  had  even 
repented  of  her  unkindness  towards  him,  and  re- 
solved to  be  more  forbearing  in  the  future.  For 
more  than  an  hour  she  kept  the  table  waiting  at 
dinner  time,  and  was  so  troubled  at  his  absence,  that 
she  felt  no  inclination  to  touch  food. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  am  not  patient  enough  with  him," 
she  sighed,  as  better  feelings  warmed  in  her  heart. 
"I  was  always  a  little  irritable.  But  I  will  try 
to  do  better.  If  he  were  not  so  close  about  money, 
I  could  be  more  patient." 

While  such  thoughts  were  passing  through  the 
mind  of  Mrs.  Ellis,  a  particular  friend,  named  Mrs. 
Claxton,  called  to  see  her. 

"  Why,  bless  me,  Cara !  what's  the  matter  ?"  ex- 
claimed this  lady,  as  she  took  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Ellis. 
"  You  look  dreadful.  Haven't  been  sick,  I  hope  ?" 

"  No,  not  sick  in  body,"  was  replied. 


LOST   AND  WON.  113 


"  Sick  in  mind.  The  worst  kind  of  sickness.  No 
serious  trouble,  I  hope  ?" 

There  was  a  free,  off-hand,  yet  insinuating  manner 
about  Mrs.  Claxton,  that,  while  it  won  the  confidence 
of  a  certain  class  of  minds,  repulsed  others.  Mrs. 
Ellis,  who  had  no  great  skill  in  reading  character, 
belonged  to  the  former  class;  and  Mrs.  Claxton 
was,  therefore,  as  just  said,  a  particular  friend,  and 
in  a  certain  sense  a  confidante. 

"  The  old  trouble,"  replied  Mrs.  Ellis  to  the 
closing  question  of  her  friend. 

"With  your  husband?" 

"  Yes.  He  pinches  me  in  money  matters  so  closely, 
and  grumbles  so  eternally  at  what  he  calls  my  ex- 
travagance, that  I'm  out  of  all  patience.  Last  even- 
ing, just  as  I  was  about  telling  him  that  he  must 
give  me  new  parlour  carpets,  he,  divining,  I  verily 
believe,  my  thoughts,  cut  off  every  thing,  by  saying, 
in  a  voice  as  solemn  as  the  grave — ( Cara,  I  would 
like  to  have  a  little  plain  talk  with  you  about  my 
affairs/  I  flared  right  up.  I  couldn't  have  helped 
it,  if  I'd  died  for  it  the  next  minute." 

"Well;  what  then?" 

"  Oh !  the  old  story.  Of  course  he  got  angry, 
and  went  off  like  a  streak  of  lightning.  I  cried 
half  the  evening,  and  then  went  to  bed.  I  don't 
know  how  late  it  was  when  he  came  home.  This 
morning,  when  I  got  up,  he  was  sleeping  as  heavy  as 

a  log.     It  was  near  ten  o'clock  when  I  heard  him 
10* 


114  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


moving  about  in  our  chamber,  but  I  did  not  go  in. 
He  had  got  himself  into  a  huff,  and  I  was  deter- 
mined to  let  him  get  himself  out  of  it.  Just  as 
I  supposed  he  would  come  into  the  nursery,  where  I 
was  sitting  with  the  children,  awaiting  his  lordship's 
pleasure  to  appear  for  breakfast,  he  opens  the  door 
into  the  passage,  and  walks  himself  off." 

"  Without  his  breakfast  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  And  I've  seen  nothing  of  him 
since." 

"  That's  bad,"  said  the  friend.  "  A  little  tiff  now 
and  then  is  all  well  enough  in  its  place.  But  this  ia 
too  serious." 

"  So  I  feel  it.     Yet  what  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"  You  will  have  to  manage  better  than  this." 

"  Manage  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  never  have  scenes  of  this  kind  with  my 
husband." 

"  He's  not  so  close  with  you  as  Henry  is  with  me. 
He  isn't  so  mean,  if  I  must  speak  plainly,  in  money 
matters." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that.  He  isn't  per- 
fect by  many  degrees.  One  of  his  faults,  from  the 
beginning,  has  been  a  disposition  to  dole  out  my 
allowance  of  money  with  a  very  sparing  hand.  I 
bore  this  for  some  years,  but  it  fretted  me;  and  was 
the  source  of  occasional  misunderstandings  that  were 
very  unpleasant." 

Mrs.  Claxton  paused. 


LOST   AND   \VOX.  115 


"  Well ;  what  remedy  did  you  apply  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Ellis. 

"  A  very  simple  one.  I  took  what  he  was  pleased 
to  give  me,  and  if  it  didn't  hold  out,  I  bought 
what  I  needed,  and  had  the  bills  sent  in  to  the 
store." 

"  Capital  I"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ellis.  "  Just  what  I 
have  been  thinking  of.  And  it  worked  well  ?" 

"  To  a  charm." 

"  What  did  Mr.  Claxton  say  when  the  bills  came 
in?" 

"He  looked  grave,  and  said  I  would  ruin  him; 
but,  of  course,  paid  them." 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  got  your  new  carpets  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  your  new  blinds  ?' 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  I  declare !  But  doesn't  Mr.  Claxton  dimi- 
nish your  allowances  of  money  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  his  credit  is  as  good  as  his  money.  I 
never  pay  for  dry  goods,  shoes,  or  groceries.  The 
bills  are  all  sent  in  to  him." 

"  And  he  never  grumbles  ?" 

"  I  can't  just  say  that.  It  isn't  a  week  since  he 
assured  me,  with  the  most  solemn  face  in  the  world, 
that  if  I  didn't  manage  to  keep  the  family  on  less 
than  I  did,  he  would  certainly  be  ruined  in  his  busi- 
ness." 

"  The  old  story." 


116  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

"Yes.  I've  heard  it  so  often,  that  it  goes  in  at 
one  ear  and  out  at  the  other." 

"  So  have  I.  But  I  like  your  plan  amazingly, 
and  mean  to  adopt  it.  In  fact,  something  of  the 
kind  was  running  through  my  head  yesterday." 

"  Do  so ;  and  you  will  save  yourself  a  world  of 
petty  troubles.  I  find  that  it  works  just  right." 

This  advice  of  her  friend  Mrs.  Ellis  pondered  all 
the  afternoon,  and,  after  viewing  the  matter  on  all 
sides,  deliberately  concluded  to  act  in  like  manner. 
Yet,  for  all  this,  she  could  not  conquer  a  certain 
angry  feeling  that  rankled  towards  her  husband, 
and,  in  spite  of  sundry  half  formed  resolutions  to 
meet  him,  when  he  returned,  in  a  kind  manner,  her 
reception  of  him  was  such  as  the  reader  has  seen. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  turning-point  with  Ellis  had  nearly  come. 
It  required,  comparatively,  little  beyond  the  weight 
of  a  feather  to  give  preponderance  to  the  scale  of 
evil  influences.  Cara's  reception,  as  shown  in  the 
last  chapter,  was  no  worse  than  he  had  anticipated, 
yet  it  hurt  him  none  the  less;  for  unkind  words 
from  her  were  always  felt  as  blows,  and  coldness  as 
the  pressure  upon  his  heart  of  an  icy  hand.  In  the 
love  of  his  children,  who  were  very  fond  of  him,  he 


LOST   AND   WON.  117 


sought  a  kind  of  refuge.  Henry,  his  oldest  child, 
was  a  bright,  intelligent  boy  between  eight  and  nine 
years  of  age ;  and  Kate,  between  six  and  seven, 
was  a  sweet-tempered,  affectionate  little  girl,  who 
scarcely  ever  left  her  father's  side  when  he  was  in 
the  house. 

At  the  tea-table,  only  the  children's  voices  were 
heard:  they  seemed  not  to  perceive  the  coldness  that 
separated  their  parents.  After  supper,  Mr.  Ellis 
went  up  into  the  nursery  with  Henry  and  Kate,  and 
was  chatting  pleasantly  with  them,  when  their  mo- 
ther, who  had  remained  behind  to  give  some  direc- 
tions to  a  servant,  came  into  the  room. 

"  Come  !"  said  she,  in  rather  a  sharp  voice,  as  she 
entered,  "  it  is  time  you  were  in  bed." 

"  Papa  is  telling  us  a  story,"  returned  Kate,  in  a 
pleading  tone  :  "just  let  us  wait  until  he  is  done." 

"  I've  got  no  time  to  wait  for  stories.  Come !" 
said  the  mother,  imperatively. 

"  Papa  will  soon  be  done,"  spoke  up  Henry. 

"  It's  early  yet,  mother,"  said  Ellis ;  "  let  them 
sit  up  a  little  while.  I'm  away  all  day,  and  don't 
see  much  of  them." 

"  I  want  them  to  go  to  bed  now,"  was  the  em- 
phatic answer.  "  It's  their  bed-time,  and  I  wish 
them  out  of  the  way,  so  that  I  can  go  to  work.  If 
you'd  had  their  noise  and  confusion  about  you  all 
day,  as  I  have,  you'd  be  glad  to  see  them  in  their 
beds." 


THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


"  You'll  have  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Ellis,  in  a  tone  of 
disappointment  that  he  could  not  conceal.  "  But 
get  up  early  to-morrow  morning,  and  I  will  tell  you 
the  rest  of  the  story.  Don't  cry,  dear  I"  And  Mr. 
Ellis  kissed  tenderly  his  little  girl,  in  whose  eyes 
the  tears  were  already  starting. 

Slowly,  and  with  sad  faces,  the  children  turned  to 
obey  their  mother,  who,  not  for  a  moment  relenting, 
spoke  to  them  sharply  for  their  lack  of  prompt  obe- 
dience. They  went  crying  up-stairs,  and  she  scolding. 

The  moment  the  door  of  the  nursery  closed  upon 
the  retiring  forms  of  the  children,  Mr.  Ellis  started 
to  his  feet  with  an  impatient  exclamation,  and  com- 
menced pacing  the  room  with  rapid  steps. 

"  Temptations  without  and  storms  within,"  said 
he,  bitterly.  "  Oh,  that  I  had  the  refuge  of  a  quiet 
home,  and  the  sustaining  heart  and  wise  counsels 
of  a  loving  wife  !" 

By  the  time  Mrs.  Ellis  had  undressed  the  children 
and  got  them  snugly  in  bed,  her  excited  feelings 
were,  in  a  measure,  calmed ;  and  from  calmer  feel- 
ings flowed  the  natural  result — clearer  thoughts. 
Then  came  the  conviction  of  having  done  wrong, 
and  regret  for  a  hasty  and  unkind  act. 

"  He  sees  but  little  of  them,  it  is  true,"  she  mur- 
mured, "  and  I  might  have  let  them  remain  up  a 
little  while  longer.  I'm  too  thoughtless,  sometimes ; 
but  I  get  so  tired  of  their  noise  and  confusion,  which 
is  kept  up  all  day  long." 


LOST   AND   WON.  119 


And  then  she  sighed. 

Slowly,  and  with  gentler  feelings,  Mrs.  Ellis  went 
down-stairs.  Better  thoughts  were  in  her  mind, 
and  she  was  inwardly  resolving  to  act  towards  her 
husband  in  a  different  spirit  from  that  just  manifest- 
ed. On  entering  the  nursery,  where  she  had  left 
him,  she  was  not  a  little  disappointed  to  find  that  he 
was  not  there. 

"  It  isn't  possible  that  he  has  gone  out  I"  was  her 
instant  mental  ejaculation;  and  she  passed  quickly 
into  the  adjoining  chamber  to  see  if  he  were  there. 
It  was  empty. 

For  some  time  Mrs.  Ellis  stood  in  deep  abstraction 
of  mind;  then,  as  a  sigh  heaved  her  bosom,  she 
moved  from  the  chamber  and  went  down-stairs.  A 
glance  at  the  hat-stand  confirmed  her  fears;  her 
husband  had  left  the  house. 

"Ah,  me!"  she  sighed.  "It  is  hard  to  know 
how  to  get  along  with  him.  If  every  thing  isn't 
just  to  suit  his  fancy,  off  he  goes.  I  might  humour 
him  more  than  I  do,  but  it  isn't  in  me  to  humour 
any  one.  And  for  a  man  to  want  to  be  humoured  I 
Oh,  dear !  oh,  dear !  this  is  a  wretched  way  to  live ; 
it  will  kill  me  in  the  end.  These  men  expect  their 
own  way  in  every  thing,  and  if  they  don't  get  it, 
then  there  is  trouble.  I'm  not  fit  to  be  Henry's 
wife.  He  ought  to  have  married  a  woman  with  less 
independence  of  spirit;  one  who  would  have  been 
the  mere  creature  of  his  whims  and  fancies." 


120  THE   TWO   WIVES  :   OR, 


Mrs.  Ellis,  with  a  troubled  heart,  went  up  to  the 
room  where  so  many  of  her  lonely  evening  hours 
were  spent.  Taking  her  work-basket,  she  tried  to 
sew;  but  her  thoughts  troubled  her  so,  that  she 
finally  sought  refuge  therefrom  in  the  pages  of  an 
exciting  romance. 

The  realizing  power  of  imagination  in  Ellis  was 
very  strong.  While  he  paced  the  floor  after  his  wife 
and  children  had  left  the  room,  there  came  to  him 
such  a  vivid  picture  of  the  coldness  and  reserve  that 
must  mark  the  hours  of  that  evening,  if  they  were 
passed  with  Cara,  that  he  turned  from  it  with  a 
sickening  sense  of  pain.  Under  the  impulse  of  that 
feeling  he  left  the  house,  but  with  no  purpose  as  to 
where  he  was  going. 

For  as  long,  perhaps,  as  half  an  hour,  Ellis  walked 
the  street,  his  mind,  during  most  of  the  time,  pon- 
dering the  events  of  the  day.  His  absence  from 
business  was  so  much  lost,  and  would  throw  double 
burdens  on  the  morrow,  for,  besides  the  sum  of  two 
hundred  dollars  to  be  returned  to  Wilkinson,  he  had 
a  hundred  to  make  up  for  another  friend  who  had 
accommodated  him.  But  where  was  the  money  to 
come  from  ?  In  the  matter  of  borrowing,  Ellis  had 
never  done  much,  and  his  resources  in  that  line  were 
small.  His  losses  at  the  gaming-table  added  so 
much  to  the  weight  of  discouragement  under  which 
he  suffered ! 

"  You  play  well."      Frequently  had  the  artful 


LOST  AND  WON.  121 


tempter,  Carlton,  lured  his  victim  on  by  this  and 
other  similar  expressions,  during  the  time  he  had 
him  in  his  power;  and  thus  flattered,  Ellis  continued 
at  cards  until  repeated  losses  had  so  far  sobered  him 
as  to  give  sufficient  mental  resolution  to  enable  him 
to  stop. 

Now,  these  expressions  returned  to  his  mind, 
and  their  effect  upon  him  was  manifested  in  the 
thought, — 

"  If  I  hadn't  been  drinking,  he  would  have  found 
in  me  a  different  antagonist  altogether." 

It  was  an  easy  transition  from  this  state  of  mind 
to  another.  It  was  almost  natural  for  the  wish  to 
try  his  luck  again  at  cards  to  be  formed ;  particularly 
as  he  was  in  great  need  of  money,  and  saw  no  legi- 
timate means  of  getting  the  needed  supply. 

The  frequency  with  which  Ellis  had  spent  his 
evenings  abroad  made  him  acquainted  with  many 
phases  of  city  life  hidden  from  ordinary  observers. 
Idle  curiosity  had  more  than  once  led  him  to  visit 
certain  gambling-houses  on  a  mere  tour  of  observa- 
tion; and,  during  these  visits,  he  had  each  time  been 
tempted  to  try  a  game  or  two,  in  which  cases  little 
had  been  lost  or  won.  The  motive  for  winning  did 
not  then  exist  in  tempting  strength ;  and,  besides, 
Ellis  was  naturally  a  cautious  man.  Now,  however, 
the  motive  did  exist. 

"  Yes,  I  do  play  well,"  said  he,  mentally  answer- 
ing the  remembered  compliment  of  Carlton,  "  and 

in.— 11 


122  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


but  for  your  stealing  away  my  brains  with  liquor, 
you  would  have  found  me  a  different  kind  of  anta- 
gonist." 

Ellis  had  fifty  dollars  in  his  pocket.  This  sum 
was  the  amount  of  the  day's  sales  of  goods  in  his 
store.  Instead  of  leaving  the  money  in  his  fire- 
closet,  he  had  taken  it  with  him,  a  sort  of  dim  idea 
being  in  his  mind  that,  possibly,  it  might  be  wanted 
for  some  such  purpose  as  now  contemplated.  So 
he  was  all  prepared  for  a  trial  of  his  skill ;  and  the 
trial  was  made.  To  one  of  the  haunts  of  iniquity 
before  visited  in  mere  reprehensible  curiosity,  he 
now  repaired  with  the  deliberate  purpose  of  winning 
money  to  make  up  for  losses  already  sustained,  and 
to  provide  for  the  next  day's  payments.  He  went 
in  with  fifty  dollars  in  his  pocket-book ;  at  twelve 
o'clock  he  left  the  place  perfectly  sober,  and  the 
winner  of  three  hundred  dollars.  Though  often 
urged  to  drink',  he  had,  knowing  his  weakness,  firmly 
declined  in  every  instance. 

Cara,  he  found,  as  usual  on  returning  home  late 
at  night,  asleep.  He  sought  his  pillow  without 
disturbing  her,  and  lay  for  a  long  time  with  his 
thoughts  busy  among  golden  fancies.  In  a  few 
hours  he  had  won  three  hundred  dollars,  and  that 
from  a  player  of  no  common  skill. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Carlton  said  true.  I  play  well."  Over 
and  over  did  Ellis  repeat  this,  as  he  lay  with  his 
mind  too  much  excited  for  sleep. 


LOST  AND   WON.  123 


Wearied  nature  yielded  at  last.  His  dreams  re- 
peated the  incidents  of  the  evening,  and  reconstructed 
them  into  new  and  varied  forms.  When  he  awoke, 
at  day-dawn,  from  his  restless  slumber,  it  took  but 
a  short  time  for  his  thoughts  to  arrange  themselves 
into  a  purpose,  and  that  purpose  was  to  seek  out 
Carlton  as  the  first  business  of  the  day,  and  win 
back  the  evidence  of  debt  that  he  had  against 
him. 

The  meeting  of  Ellis  and  his  wife  at  the  breakfast- 
table  had  less  of  coldness  and  reserve  in  it  than  their 
meeting  at  tea-time.  No  reference  was  made  to  the 
previous  evening,  nor  to  the  fact  of  his  having  re- 
mained out  to  a  late  hour. 

It  was  the  intention  of  Ellis,  on  leaving  his  house 
after  breakfast,  to  repair  to  his  store  and  make  some 
preliminary  arrangements  for  the  day  before  hunting 
up  Carlton;  but  on  his  way  thither,  his  appetite 
constrained  him  to  enter  a  certain  drinking-house 
just  for  a  single  glass  of  brandy  to  give  his  nerves 
their  proper  tension. 

"Ah!  how  are  you,  my  boy?"  exclaimed  Carl- 
ton,  who  was  there  before  him,  advancing  as  he 
spoke,  and  offering  his  hand  in  his  usual  frank 
way. 

"  Glad  to  meet  you !"  returned  Ellis.  "  Just  the 
man  I  wished  to  see.  Take  a  drink  ?" 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  do." 

And  the  two  men  moved  up  to  the  bar.     When 


124  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


they  turned  away,  Carlton  drew  his  arm  familiarly 
within  that  of  Ellis,  and  bending  close  to  his  ear, 
said — "  You  wish  to  take  up  your  due-bills,  I  pre- 
sume ?" 

"  You  guess  my  wishes  precisely,"  was  the  an- 
swer. 

"Well,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  have  you  cancel 
them.  Are  you  prepared  to  do  it  this  morning  ?" 

"  I  am — in  the  way  they  were  created." 

A  gleam  of  satisfaction  lit  up  the  gambler's  face, 
which  was  partly  turned  from  Ellis;  but  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  said,  in  an  altered  voice — "  I'm 
'most  afraid  to  try  you  again." 

"  We're  pretty  well  matched,  I  know,"  said  the 
victim.  "  If  you  decline,  of  course  the  matter  ends." 

"  I  never  like  to  be  bantered,"  returned  Carlton. 
"  If  a  man  were  to  dare  me  to  jump  from  the  house- 
top, it  would  be  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  restrain 
myself." 

"  I've  got  three  hundred  in  my  pocket,"  said 
Ellis,  "  and  I'm  prepared  to  see  the  last  dollar 
of  it." 

"  Good  stuff  in  you,  my  boy !"  and  Carlton  laid 
his  hand  upon  his  shoulder  in  a  familiar  way.  "  It 
would  hardly  be  fair  not  to  give  you  a  chance  to  get 
back  where  you  were.  So  here's  for  you,  win  or 
lose,  sink  or  swim." 

And  the  two  men  left  the  tavern  together.  We 
need  not  follow  them,  nor  describe  the  contest  that 


LOST   AND   WON.  125 


ensued.  The  result  has  already  been  anticipated 
by  the  reader.  A  few  hours  sufficed  to  strip  Ellis 
of  his  three  hundred  dollars,  and  increase  his  debts 
to  the  gambler  nearly  double  the  former  amount. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MRS.  ELLIS  knew,  by  the  appearance  of  her  hus- 
band, that  he  had  not  been  drinking  on  the  night  pre- 
vious, late  as  he  had  remained  away.  This  took  a 
weight  from  her  feelings,  and  relieved  her  mind 
from  self-upbraidings  that  would  have  haunted  her 
all  the  day.  After  breakfast  her  mind  began  to 
ponder  what  Mrs.  Claxton  had  said  on  the  day  pre- 
vious, and  the  more  she  thought  of  her  advice  and 
example,  the  more  she  felt  inclined  to  adopt  a 
similar  course  of  action.  On  new  Brussels  carpets 
she  had,  long  ago,  set  her  heart,  and  already  wor- 
ried her  husband  about  them  past  endurance.  To 
obtain  his  consent  to  the  purchase,  she  felt  to  be 
hopeless. 

"  I  must  get  them  in  this  way,  or  not  at  all.  So 
much  is  clear."  Thus  she  communed  with  herself. 
"  He's  able  enough  to  pay  the  bill ;  if  I  had  any 
doubts  of  that,  the  matter  would  be  settled ;  but  I 
have  none." 

With  the  prospect  of  getting  the  long  coveted 
carpets,  came  an  increased  desire  for  their  possession. 


126  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


In  imagination  Mrs.  Ellis  saw  them  already  on  the 
floor.  For  some  hours  there  was  a  struggle  in  her 
mind.  Then  the  tempter  triumphed.  She  dressed 
herself,  and  went  out  for  the  purpose  of  making  a 
selection.  From  this  moment  she  did  not  hesitate. 
Calling  at  a  well-known  carpet  warehouse,  she  made 
her  selection,  and  directed  the  bill,  after  the  carpet 
was  made  and  put  down,  to  be  sent  in  to  her  husband. 
The  price  of  the  carpet  she  chose  was  two  dollars  and 
a  quarter  a  yard ;  and  the  whole  bill,  including  that 
of  the  upholsterer,  would  reach  a  hundred  and  sixty 
dollars. 

"When  Mrs.  Ellis  returned  home,  after  having  con- 
summated her  purpose,  the  thought  of  her  beautiful 
carpet  gave -her  far  less  pleasure  than  she  had  an- 
ticipated. In  every  wrong  act  lies  its  own  punish- 
ment. Uneasiness  of  mind  follows  as  a  sure  conse- 
quence. From  the  idea  of  her  beautiful  parlours, 
her  mind  would  constantly  turn  to  her  husband. 

"  What  will  he  say  ?" 

Ah  !  if  she  could  only  have  answered  that  ques- 
tion satisfactorily ! 

"  I  will  be  so  good,  I  will  disarm  him  with  kind- 
ness. I  will  humour  him  in  every  thing.  I  will 
not  give  him  a  chance  to  be  angry." 

For  a  while  this  idea  pleased  the  mind  of  Mrs. 
Ellis.  But  it  only  brought  a  temporary  respite  to 
the  uneasiness  produced  by  her  wrong  act. 

"  I'll  tell  him  just  what  I  have  done,"  said  she 


LOST   AND   WON.  127 


to  herself,  as  the  dinner  hour  approached,  and  Cara 
began  to  look  for  her  husband's  return.  "  He  might 
as  well  know  it  now,  as  in  a  week ;  and,  besides,  it 
will  give  him  time  to  prepare  for  the  bill.  Yes,  that 
is  what  I  will  do." 

Still,  her  mind  felt  troubled.  The  act  was  done, 
and  no  way  of  retreat  remained  open.  The  conse- 
quences must  be  met. 

The  hour  for  Mr.  Ellis  to  return  home  at  length 
arrived,  and  his  wife  waited  his  coming  with  a  feel- 
ing of  troubled  suspense  such  as  she  had  rarely,  if 
ever,  before  experienced.  Smiles,  ready  to  be  forced 
to  her  countenance,  were  wreathing  themselves  in 
her  imagination.  She  meant  to  be  "  so  good,"  so 
loving,  so  considerate.  A  particular  dish  of  which 
he  was  so  fond  had  been  ordered, — it  was  a  month 
since  it  had  graced  their  table. 

But  time  moved  on.  It  was  thirty  minutes  past 
the  dinner  hour,  and  he  was  still  away.  At  last 
Mrs.  Ellis  gave  him  up.  A  full  hour  had  elapsed, 
and  there  was  little  probability  of  his  return  before 
the  close  of  business  for  the  day.  So  she  sat  down 
with  her  children  to  eat  the  meal  which  long  delay 
had  spoiled,  and  for  which  she  had  now  but  little 
appetite. 

Wearily  passed  the  afternoon,  and,  as  the  usual 
time  for  Ellis's  appearance  drew  near,  his  wife  be- 
gan to  look  for  his  coming  with  feelings  of  unusual 
concern.  Not  concern  for  him,  but  for  herself.  She 


128  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

had  pretty  well  made  up  her  mind  to  inform  him  of 
what  she  had  done,  but  shrank  from  the  scene  which 
she  had  every  reason  to  believe  would  follow. 

The  twilight  had  just  begun  to  fall,  and  Mrs. 
Ellis,  with  her  babe  in  her  arms,  was  sitting  in  one 
of  the  parlours,  waiting  for  and  thinking  of  her  hus- 
band, when  she  heard  his  key  in  the  door.  He  came 
in,  and  moving  along  the  entry  with  a  quicker  step 
than  usual,  went  up-stairs.  Supposing  that,  not 
finding  her  above,  he  would  come  down  to  the  par- 
lours, Mrs.  Ellis  waited  nearly  five  minutes.  Then 
she  followed  him  up-stairs.  Not  finding  him  in  the 
nursery,  she  passed  into  their  chamber.  Here  she 
found  him,  lying  across  the  bed,  on  which  he  had, 
evidently,  thrown  himself  under  some  strong  excite- 
ment, or  abandonment  of  feeling,  for  his  head  was 
not  upon  a  pillow,  and  he  lay  perfectly  motionless, 
as  if  unconscious  of  her  presence. 

"Henry !"  She  called  his  name,  but  he  made  no 
answer,  nor  gave  even  a  sign. 

"Henry!     Are  you  sick?" 

There  was  a  slight  movement  of  his  body,  but  no 
reply. 

"Henry!  Henry!"  Mrs.  Ellis  spoke  in  tones  of 
anxiety,  as  she  laid  her  hand  upon  him.  "  Speak ! 
What  is  the  matter  ?  Are  you  sick  ?" 

A  long  deep  sigh  was  the  only  answer. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak,  Henry  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Ellis.  "  You  frighten  me  dreadfully." 


LOST   AND   WON.  129 


"Don't  trouble  me  just  now,  if  you  please,"  said 
the  wretched  man,  in  a  low,  half-whispering  voice. 

"  But  what  ails  you,  Henry  ?     Are  you  sick  ? 

"  Yes." 

"  How  ?     Where  ?     What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"  Nothing  I"  was  faintly  murmured. 

By  this  time,  Cara  began  to  feel  really  alarmed. 
Leaving  the  room  hurriedly,  she  gave  the  babe  she 
held  in  her  arms  to  one  of  her  domestics,  and  then 
returned.  Bending,  now,  over  her  husband,  she 
took  one  of  his  hands,  and  clasping  it  tightly,  said, 
in  a  voice  of  earnest  affection  that  went  to  the  heart 
of  Ellis  with  electric  quickness — 

"  Do,  Henry,  say  what  ails  you !  Can't  I  get 
something  for  you  ?" 

"  I'll  feel  better  in  a  little  while/'  whispered 
Ellis. 

"  Let  me  send  for  the  doctor." 

"  Oh,  no  !  no  !  I'm  not  so  sick  as  that,"  was  an- 
swered. "  I  only  feel  a  little  faint,  not  having  taken 
any  dinner." 

"  Why  did  you  go  without  a  meal  ?  It  is  not 
right  to  do  so.  I  waited  for  you  so  long,  and  was 
so  disappointed  that  you  did  not  come." 

There  was  more  of  tenderness  and  wife-like  in- 
terest in  Cara's  words  and  manner  than  had  been 
manifested  for  a  long  time,  and  the  feelings  of  Ellis 
were  touched  thereby.  Partly  raising  himself  on 
his  elbow,  he  replied — 


130  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


"  I  know  it  isn't  right ;  but  I  was  so  much  en- 
gaged !" 

The  twilight  pervading  the  room  was  too  feeble  to 
give  Mrs.  Ellis  a  distinct  view  of  her  husband's  coun- 
tenance. Its  true  expression,  therefore,  was  veiled. 

"You  feel  better  now,  do  you?"  she  inquired 
tenderly. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  he  answered,  slightly  pressing  the 
hand  she  had  laid  in  his. 

"1  will  order  tea  on  the  table  immediately." 

And  Mrs.  Ellis  left  the  room.  When  she  re- 
turned, he  had  risen  from  the  bed,  and  was  sitting 
in  a  large  chair  near  one  of  the  windows. 

"Are  you  better,  dear?"  tenderly  inquired  Mrs. 
Ellis. 

"  Yes,  a  good  deal  better,"  was  answered.  And 
the  words  were  truly  spoken ;  for  this  unlooked-for, 
kind,  even  tender  reception,  had  wrought  an  al- 
most instantaneous  change.  He  had  come  home 
with  a  feeling  of  despair  tugging  at  his  heart.  No- 
thing appeared  before  him  but  ruin.  Now  the  light 
of  hope,  feeble  though  were  the  rays,  came  glim- 
mering across  the  darkness  of  his  spirit. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it !"  was  the  warm  response 
of  Cara.  "  Oh  !  it  is  so  wrong  for  you  to  neglect 
your  meals.  You  confine  yourself  too  closely  to 
business.  I  wanted  you  to  come  home  to-day  par- 
ticularly, for  I  had  prepared  for  you,  just  in  the 
way  you  like  it,  such  a  nice  dish  of  maccaroni." 


LOST  AND   AVON.  131 


"  It  was  very  thoughtful  in  you,  dear.  I  wish  I 
had  been  at  home  to  enjoy  it  with  you." 

Tea  being  announced,  Mrs.  Ellis  arose  and  said : 

"  Come ;  supper  is  on  the  table.  You  must 
break  your  long  fast." 

"  First  let  me  wash  my  hands  and  face,"  returned 
Ellis,  who  wished  to  gain  time,  as  well  as  use  all 
the  means,  to  restore  his  countenance  to  a  better 
expression  than  it  wore,  ere  meeting  Cara  under 
the  glare  of  strong  lamp  light. 

A  basin  was  filled  for  him  by  his  wife,  and,  after 
washing  his  hands  and  face,  he  left  the  chamber 
with  her,  and  went  to  the  dining-room.  Here  Cara 
got  a  distinct  view  of  her  husband's  countenance. 
Many  lines  of  the  passion  and  suffering  written 
there  during  that,  to  him,  ever-to-be-remembered 
day,  were  still  visible,  and,  as  Cara  read  them  with- 
out comprehending  their  import,  a  vague  fear  came 
hovering  over  her  heart.  Instantly  her  thoughts 
turned  to  what  she  had  been  doing,  and  most  sin- 
cerely did  she  repent  of  the  act. 

"  I  will  confess  it  to  him,  this  very  night,"  such 
was  her  mental  resolution, — "and  promise,  here- 
after never  to  do  aught  against  his  wishes." 

Notwithstanding  Ellis  had  taken  no  dinner,  he 
had  little  appetite  for  his  evening  meal;  and  the 
concern  of  his  wife  was  increased  on  observing  that 
he  merely  tasted  his  food  and  sipped  his  tea. 

The  more  than  ordinary  trouble  evinced,  as  well 


132  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OB, 

in  the  whole  manner  of  Ellis  as  in  the  expression 
of  his  face  and  in  the  tones  of  his  voice,  oppressed 
the  heart  of  Cara.  She  felt  that  something  more 
than  usual  must  have  occurred  to  disturb  him. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  any  thing  was  wrong  in 
his  business  ?  The  thought  caused  a  low  thrill  to 
tremble  along  her  nerves.  He  had  frequently 
spoken  of  his  affairs  as  not  very  prosperous ;  was 
always,  in  fact,  making  a  "  sort  of  a  poor  mouth." 
But  all  this  she  had  understood  as  meant  for  effect — 
as  a  cover  for  his  opposition  to  her  wish  to  spend. 
What  if  it  were  all  as  he  had  represented  ? 

Such  thoughts  could  not  but  sober  the  mind  of 
Mrs.  Ellis,  and  caused  her  manner  towards  her  hus- 
band to  assume  an  air  of  tenderness  and  concern  to 
which  it  had  too  long  been  a  stranger.  How  quick- 
ly was  this  felt  by  Ellis  !  How  gratefully  did  his 
heart  respond  to  his  wife's  gentler  touches  on  its 
tensely  strung  chords ! 

That  evening  Henry  Ellis  spent  at  home.  Not 
much  conversation  passed  between  him  and  his 
wife;  for  the  mind  of  each  was  too  heavily  bur- 
dened with  thoughts  of  its  own  to  leave  room  for 
an  interchange  of  ideas.  But  the  manner  of  Cara 
towards  her  husband  was  subdued,  and  even  tender ; 
and  he  felt  it  as  the  grateful  earth  feels  the  strength- 
giving  impression  of  the  gentle  rain.  Leaving  the 
past,  to  the  future  both  their  thoughts  turned ;  and 
both  strengthened  themselves  in  good  resolutions. 


LOST  AND   WON.  133 


Cara  resolved  to  be  a  better  wife — to  be  more  con- 
siderate and  more  yielding  towards  her  husband. 
And  Ellis  resolved  to  abandon,  at  every  sacrifice, 
the  vicious  habits  he  had  indulged, — habits  which, 
within  a  day  or  two,  had  led  him  aside  from  the 
path  of  safety,  and  conducted  him  to  the  brink  of  a 
precipice,  from  which  he  now  started 'back  with  a 
thrilling  sense  of  fear. 

More  than  twenty  times  during  that  evening  was 
Cara  on  the  eve  of  telling  her  husband  about  the 
carpet.  But  she  shrank  from  the  confession. 

"  In  the  morning  I  will  do  it,"  was  her  final  con- 
clusion ]  thus  putting  off  the  evil  hour.  But  morn- 
ing found  her  no  better  prepared  for  the  task. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ALL  through  the  night,  the  mind  of  Ellis  was 
haunted  with  troubled  dreams ;  but,  on  waking,  he 
felt  calm,  and  good  purposes  were  in  his  heart.  The 
manner  of  Cara  still  being  tender  and  considerate, 
he  went  forth  feeling  the  strength  of  her  love,  and 
resolving,  for  her  sake,  and  the  sake  of  his  children, 
to  free  himself  from  his  present  entanglements,  cost 
what  it  would. 

Seven  hundred  dollars  was  the  sum  he  had  lost 

at  the  gaming-table,  and  for  over  five  hundred  of 
m.— 12 


134  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


this,  Carlton  held  his  obligations,  payable  on  de- 
mand. Besides  this,  he  owed  on  account  of  tempo- 
rary loans,  from  business  friends,  about  an  equal 
amount.  Moreover,  on  that  day,  a  note  of  three 
hundred  dollars  fell  due ;  and  in  the  coming  ten 
days,  about  a  thousand  dollars  had  to  be  paid  into 
bank.  The  aggregate  of  all  these  obligations,  to  be 
met  within  two  weeks,  was  two  thousand  three  hun- 
dred dollars. 

As  Ellis  looked  at  this  formidable  amount,  and 
calculated  his  resources,  he  felt,  for  a  time,  utterly 
discouraged.  But  a  reaction  from  this  state  of 
feeling  came,  and  he  set  his  mind  vigorously  to 
work  in  devising  means  for  the  pressing  emergency. 

"  There  is  one  thing  certain,"  said  he  to  himself, 
as  he  pondered  the  matter.  "  Carlton  will  have  to 
wait.  So  there  are  five  hundred  dollars  pushed 
ahead.  I  received  no  value  in  the  case,  and  shall 
not  hurry  myself  to  make  payment." 

Even  while  Ellis  thus  spoke,  a  man  called  and 
presented  the  due-bills  he  had  given  to  the  gambler. 

"I  can't  take  these  up  now,"  was  the  prompt 
reply. 

"  My  directions  are  to  collect  them  forthwith/' 
said  the  man. 

"  Mr.  Carlton  will  have  to  wait  my  convenience." 
Ellis  spoke  with  considerable  irritation  of  manner. 

"  Shall  I  say  so  to  him  ?"  was  asked,  in  a  tone 
that  involved  a  warning  of  consequences. 


LOST  AND   WON.  135 


"  You  can  say  to  him  what  you  please,"  answered 
Ellis,  sharply. 

"  Oh  !  very  well !" 

The  man  turned  away,  and  walked  towards  the 
door.  He  paused,  however,  after  going  a  short  dis- 
tance ;  stood,  as  if  reflecting,  for  some  moments,  and 
then  came  back. 

"  You  had  better  think  over  this  a  little,"  said 
he,  in  a  conciliatory  voice.  "  The  debt  is,  I  need 
not  remind  you,  one  of  honour;  and  it  is  neither 
wise  nor  safe  for  a  man  of  business  to  let  such  a 
debt  be  handed  over  for  legal  collection.  You  un- 
derstand, I  presume  ?" 

The  suggestion  caused  Ellis  to  start,  involunta- 
rily. He  saw,  at  a  glance,  the  dangerous  position 
in  which  he  stood.  Only  by  retaining  a  fair  credit 
would  it  be  possible  for  him  to  surmount  his  present 
difficulties ;  and  his  credit  would  be  instantly  blast- 
ed if  a  suit  were  brought  against  him  by  a  man  he 
had  now  good  reasons  to  believe  was  known  in  the 
community  as  a  gambler. 

"  You  understand  me  ?"  repeated  the  collector,  in 
a  tone  of  marked  significance. 

Ellis  tried  to  regain  his  self-possession,  and  affect 
indifference.  But  his  feelings  were  poorly  dis- 
guised. 

"  Just  say  to  Mr.  Carlton,"  he  replied,  "  that  it 
is  not  my  purpose  to  give  him  any  trouble  about 
this  matter.  I  will  take  up  the  due-bills.  But  I 


136  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


have  some  heavy  payments  to  make,  and  cannot  do 
it  just  now." 

"  When  will  it  be  done  ?" 

"  That  I  am  unable,  just  now,  to  say." 

"Can't  you  give  me  a  part  of  the  money  to- 
day?" 

Ellis  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  notes  in  bank,  and  they  must  take  the 
precedence  of  all  other  payments." 

"  To-morrow,  then  ?" 

"  I  have  five  hundred  dollars  to  pay  to-morrow." 

The  man's  countenance  began  to  lower. 

"  Just  go  to  Mr.  Carlton,  if  you  please,  and  tell 
him  what  I  say.  He's  a  man  of  common  sense; — 
he  will  listen  to  reason." 

"  My  orders  to  collect  were  imperative,"  persisted 
the  man. 

"  Tell  him  that  you  can't  collect  to-day.  That  I 
must  and  will  have  time.  There  now  !  Gro  !  I've 
something  else  to  do  besides  arguing  this  matter 
fruitlessly." 

The  collector  turned  off  with  an  angry,  threaten- 
ing look.  A  few  minutes  after  he  was  gone,  and 
ere  the  mind  of  Ellis  had  recovered  its  balance,  a 
customer  called  in  and  paid  a  bill  of  a  hundred  dol- 
lars. This  awakened  a  feeling  of  confidence ;  and, 
in  a  hopeful  spirit,  Ellis  went  forth  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  the  balance  of  what  was  wanted  for 
the  day.  He  found  no  difficulty  in  procuring  the 


LOST   AND   WON.  137 


sum  he  needed,  which  was  four  hundred  dollars. 
After  taking  up  his  note,  he  called  upon  his  friend 
Wilkinson  with  the  two  hundred  dollars  he  had 
failed  to  return  the  day  before,  when,  after  apolo- 
gizing for  his  neglect,  he  asked  him  how  he  would 
be  off  in  regard  to  money  matters  during  the  ensu- 
ing two  weeks. 

"  Tight  as  a  drum,"  was  answered. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,"  replied  Ellis,  showing 
more  disappointment  than  he  wished  to  appear ; 
"  for  I  have  made  some  calculation  on  you.  I  have 
nearly  two  thousand  dollars  to  take  care  of  in  the 
next  ten  days." 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you.  But,  indeed,  I  can- 
not," said  Wilkinson,  looking  serious.  "  I  have 
been  a  good  deal  crowded  of  late,  and  shall  have 
my  hands  full,  and  more  than  full  for  some  time  to 
come.  I  never  knew  money  so  tight  as  it  is  just 
now." 

"  Nor  I  neither.  Well,  I  suppose  we  shall  get 
through  somehow.  But  I  must  own  that  things 
look  dark." 

"  The  darkest  hour  is  just  before  the  break  of 
day,"  said  Wilkinson,  with  an  earnestness  that  ex- 
pressed his  faith  in  what  he  said.  His  faith  was 
born  of  a  resolution  to  separate  himself  from  all 
dangerous  companionship  and  habits,  and  a  deeply 
felt  conviction  of  the  all-sustaining  strength  of  his 

wife's  self-denying  affection. 
12* 


o 

138  THE   TWO   WIVES  :    OR, 


"  Yes— yes — so  the  proverb  says,  and  so  the  poet 
sings,"  returned  Ellis,  thoughtfully.  "  This  seems 
to  be  my  darkest  hour.  God  grant  it  be  only  the 
precursor  of  day  !" 

"  Amen  !"  The  solemn  response  of  Wilkinson 
was  involuntary. 

"  And  so  you  can't  help  me  ?"  said  Ellis,  reco- 
vering himself,  and  speaking  in  a  more  cheerful 
voice. 

"Indeed  I  cannot." 

"Well,  help  will  come,  I  suppose.  There  is 
nothing  like  trying.  So  good  morning.  Time  is 
too  precious  to  waste  just  now." 

Between  the  store  of  Wilkinson  and  that  of 
Ellis  was  a  refectory,  where  the  latter  often  repaired 
for  a  lunch  and  something  to  drink  about  eleven  or 
twelve  o'clock.  It  was  now  twelve,  and,  as  Ellis 
had  taken  only  a  light  breakfast,  and  omitted  his 
morning  dram,  he  felt  both  hungry  and  dry.  Al- 
most as  a  matter  of  course,  he  was  about  entering 
this  drinking-house,  when,  as  he  stepped  on  the 
threshold,  his  eyes  rested  on  the  form  of  Carlton, 
standing  by  the  bar  with  a  glass  in  his  hand. 
Quickly  he  turned  away,  and  kept  on  to  his  store, 
where  he  quenched  his  thirst  with  a  copious  draught 
of  ice-water.  Not  a  drop  of  liquor  had  passed  his 
lips  when  he  went  home  at  dinner-time.  And  he 
was  as  free  from  its  influence  when  he  joined  his 
family  at  the  close  of  day.  Cara  received  him  with 


•s 
LOST   AND   WON.  139 


the  kindness  and  consideration  that  were  so  grateful 
to  his  feelings ;  and  he  spent  the  evening,  safe  from 
all  dangers,  at  home. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  WILL  you  have  the  money  now,  dear  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Wilkinson,  as  she  arose,  with  her  husband,  from  the 
dinner-table,  on  the  day  she  announced  to  him  the 
fact  that  she  had  saved  a  few  hundred  dollars,  out 
of  the  amount  given  her  for  the  expenses  of  the 
family. 

"No,  not  to-day,"  replied  Wilkinson.  "  In  fact, 
Mary,"  he  added,  "I  don't  feel  just  right  about 
taking  your  money ;  and  I  think  I  must  manage  to 
get  along  without  it." 

"  John  !"  Mrs.  Wilkinson  seemed  hurt  by  her 
husband's  words. 

"  It  is  yours,  Mary,"  was  replied  with  much  ten- 
derness of  manner.  "  You  have  saved  it  for  some 
particular  purpose,  and  I  shall  not  feel  happy  to  let 
it  go  back  again  and  become  absorbed  in  my  busi- 
ness." 

"Have  we  divided  interests,  John?"  said  Mrs. 
Wilkinson,  in  a  low,  serious  voice,  as  she  clung  to 
her  husband's  arm,  and  looked  steadily  into  his  face. 

"  I  hope  not,  Mary." 


140  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


"  Am  I  not  your  wife  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes ;  and  one  of  the  best  of  wives." 

"  And  do  I  not  love  you  ?" 

"  Never  for  a  single  moment  has  a  doubt  of  your 
love  been  whispered  in  my  heart." 

"  Such  a  whisper  would  have  wronged  me.  Yes, 
my  husband,  I  do  love  you,  and  as  my  very  life." 

Wilkinson  bent  down  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 

"Love  ever  seeks  to  bless  its  object,"  continued 
Mary,  "  and  finds,  in  doing  so,  its  purest  delight. 
Do  you  think  I  could  use  the  money  I  have,  in  any 
way  that  would  bring  me  so  much  pleasure  as  by 
placing  it  in  your  "hands  ?  Surely  your  heart  says 
no." 

"  I  will  take  it,  dear,"  said  Wilkinson,  after  a 
slight  pause.  His  voice  was  unsteady  as  he  spoke; 
"and  you  will  have  your  reward,"  he  added,  in 
tones  filled  with  a  prophecy  for  the  future. 

"  Never — never — never  shall  act  of  mine  bring  a 
shadow  to  that  dear  face !"  was  the  mental  ejacu- 
lation of  Wilkinson,  as,  with  an  impulse  of  affection 
he  could  not  restrain,  he  threw  his  arms  around  his 
wife  and  hugged  her  to  his  bosom. 

"  Bless  you  L  Bless  you,  Mary  !"  came,  almost 
sobbing,  from  his  overflowing -heart. 

On  his  way  to  his  store,  that  afternoon,  Wilkin- 
son felt  the  old  desire  to  stop  and  get  his  usual  glass 
of  brandy,  and  he  was  actually  about  to  enter  a 
drinking-house,  when  the  image  of  his  wife  came  so 


LOST   AND  WON.  141 


distinctly  before  his  mind,  that  it  seemed  almost  like 
a  personal  presence.  He  saw  a  shadow  upon  her 
face,  and  the  dimness  of  tears  was  in  her  tender 
blue  eyes. 

"  No !"  said  he  resolutely,  and  with  an  audible 
expression,  and  quickly  passed  on. 

How  his  bosom  rose  and  fell,  with  a  panting  mo- 
tion, as  if  from  some  strong  physical  effort. 

"  What  an  escape  !  It  was  the  very  path  of 
danger!"  such  were  his  thoughts.  "To  venture 
into  that  path  again  were  the  folly  of  a  madman. 
No,  Mary,  no  !  Your  love  shall  draw  me  back  with 
its  strong  attraction.  A  new  light  seems  breaking 
all  around  me.  I  see  as  I  never  saw  before.  There 
is  the  broad  way  to  destruction,  and  here  winds  the 
narrow  but  pleasant  path  of  safety.  Ruined  hopes, 
broken  hearts,  and  sad  wrecks  of  humanity  are  scat- 
tered thickly  along  the  first,  but  heavenly  confidence, 
joyful  hearts,  and  man,  with  the  light  of  celestial 
truth  upon  his  upturned  face,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
other.  Shall  I  hesitate  in  which  to  walk  ?  No  I" 

With  a  quicker  and  more  elastic  step  Wilkinson 
pursued  his  way,  and  reached  his  store  just  as  a  cus- 
tomer from  the  country,  who  had  been  waiting  for 
him,  was  leaving. 

"Just  in  time,"  said  the  latter.  "I've  been 
waiting  for  you  over  half  an  hour." 

"  I  dined  later  to-day  than  usual,"  returned  Wil- 
kinson. ' 


142  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


"  I  wanted  to  settle  my  bill,  but  there  were  two 
or  three  items  which  your  clerk  could  not  explain. 
So  I  concluded  to  let  the  matter  stand  over  until  I 
was  in  the  city  again,  which  will  be  in  the  course 
of  a  few  weeks.  However,  as  you  are  here,  we  will 
arrange  it  now." 

So  the  two  men  walked  back  to  the  desk  upon 
which  lay  Wilkinson's  account  books.  The  custom- 
er's bill  was  referred  to,  and  one  or  two  slight  dis- 
crepancies reconciled.  The  amount  of  it  was  nearly 
two  hundred  dollars. 

"  You  will  take  off  five  per  cent,  for  cash,  I  pre- 
sume ?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Wilkinson. 

The  money  was  paid  down. 

"  So  much  for  not  stopping  on  the  way  to  busi- 
ness for  a  glass  of  brandy." 

This  thought  was  spontaneous  in  the  mind  of 
Wilkinson.  After  his  customer  had  left,  he  fell  into 
a  musing  state,  in  which  many  thoughts  were  pre- 
sented, that,  from  the  pain  and  self-condemnation 
they  occasioned,  he  tried  to  push  from  his  mind. 
But  he  was  not  able  to  do  this.  Much  of  the  his- 
tory of  his  daily  life  for  the  past  few  years  presented 
itself,  and,  in  reviewing  it,  many  things  stood  out 
in  bold  relief,  which  were  before  regarded  as  of 
little  moment.  Not  until  now  did  he  clearly  see  the 
dangerous  position  in  which  he  stood. 

"So  near  the  brink  of  ruin!"  he  sighed.     "I 


LOST   AND   WON.  143 


knew  the  path  to  be  a  dangerous  one ;  I  knew  that 
other  feet  had  slipped ;  but  felt  secure  in  my  own 
strength.  Ah  !  that  strength  was  weakness  itself. 
I  a  drunkard  I"  He  shuddered  as  the  thought  pre- 
sented itself.  "  And  Mary,  the  hopeless,  broken- 
hearted wife  of  one  lost  to  every  ennobling  senti- 
ment of  the  human  mind !  It  is  awful  to  think 
of  it !" 

Wilkinson  was  deeply  disturbed.  For  some  time 
longer  his  mind  dwelt  on  this  theme  :  then,  in  the 
depths  of  his  own  thoughts,  and  in  the  presence  of 
Heaven,  he  resolved  to  be  in  safety,  by  avoiding  the 
path  of  danger ;  to  put  forever  from  his  lips  the  cup 
from  which  he  had  so  often  drank  confusion. 

Suddenly  he  appeared  to  be  lifted  above  the  level 
he  had  occupied,  into  a  region  whose  atmosphere  was 
purer,  and  to  a  position  from  which  he  saw  things  in 
new  relations.  It  was  only  then  that  he  fully  compre- 
hended the  real  danger  from  which  he  had  escaped. 

"  And  my  wife  has  saved  me  I"  was  the  involun- 
tary acknowledgment  of  his  heart. 

The  rest  of  the  afternoon  was  spent  by  Wilkinson 
in  a  careful  investigation  of  his  affairs.  He  ascer- 
tained the  entire  amount  he  would  have  to  pay  in 
the  coming  six  months,  and  also  his  probable  re- 
sources during  the  time.  The  result  was  very  dis- 
couraging. But  for  the  sum  lost  to  Carlton  he 
would  have  seen  all  clear  ;  but  the  abstraction  of  so 
much  lessened  his  available  means,  and  would  so 


144  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


clog  the  wheels  of  his  business  as  to  make  all  pro- 
gress exceedingly  difficult. 

There  was  a  shadow  on  the  brow  of  Wilkinson 
when  he  met  his  wife  that  evening,  and  she  saw  it 
the  moment  he  came  in,  notwithstanding  his  effort 
to  seem  cheerful.  This  shadow  fell  upon  her  heart, 
but  she  did  not  permit  its  reproduction  on  her  coun- 
tenance. 

After  tea,  Mary  was  busied  for  a  short  time  in 
getting  little  Ella  to  sleep.  When  she  returned,  at 
length,  to  their  sitting-room,  she  had  a  small  pack- 
age in  her  hand,  which,  with  a  smiling  face,  she  laid 
upon  the  table  at  which  her  husband  sat  reading. 

"  What  is  that,  dear  ?"  he  asked,  lifting  his  eyes 
to  her  face. 

"  We  shall  soon  see,"  was  answered,  and  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  commenced  opening  the  package.  In  a 
moment  or  two,  five  or  six  rolls  of  coin  were  pro- 
duced, nicely  enveloped  in  paper. 

"  This  is  my  sub-treasury,"  said  she,  with  a  smile. 
"  I  took  an  account  of  the  deposits  to-day,  and  find 
just  five  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  So,  even  if  Mr. 
Ellis  should  fail  to  return  the  two  hundred  dollars 
he  borrowed,  you  will  still  be  three  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  better  off  than  you  thought  you  were. 
So  push  every  gloomy  thought  from  your  heart. 
All  will  come  out  right  in  the  end." 

Wilkinson  looked  at  the  money  like  one  who 
could  scarcely  believe  the  evidence  of  his  senses. 


LOST  AND   WON.  145 


"This  for  the  present/'  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson, 
leaning  towards  her  husband,  and  fixing  her  gentle, 
yet  earnest,  loving  eyes  upon  his  face.  "  This  for 
the  present.  And  now  let  me  give  you  my  plans 
for  the  future.  Your  business  is  to  earn  money, 
and  mine  to  expend  so  much  of  it  as  domestic  com- 
fort and  well-being  requires.  Thus  far  I  bejieve 
the  expenditure  has  not  been  in  a  just  ratio  to  the 
earnings.  Speak  out  plainly,  dear  husband !  and 
say  if  I  am  not  right." 

Wilkinson  sat  silent,  gradually  withdrawing  his  eyes 
from  those  of  his  wife,  and  letting  them  fall  to  the  floor. 

"  Yes,  I  am  right,"  said  the  latter,  after  a  pause. 
"  And  such  being  the  case,  you  have  become  pressed 
for  money  to  conduct  your  business.  A  change, 
then,  is  required.  We  must  lessen  our  expenses. 
And  now  listen  to  what  I  have  to  propose.  I  went 
this  afternoon  to  see  Mrs.  Capron,  and  she  says,  that 
if  we  will  furnish  our  own  room,  she  will  board  us 
and  a  nurse  for  ten  dollars  a  week." 

"  Board  us  I" 

"  Yes,  dear.  Won't  it  be  much  better  for  us  to 
take  boarding  for  two  or  three  years,  until  we  can 
afford  to  keep  a  house  ?" 

"  But  our  furniture,  Mary  ?  What  is  to  be  done 
with  that  ?" 

"  All  provided  for,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  with 
sparkling  eyes,  and  a  countenance  flushed  with  the 
excitement  she  felt.  "  We  will  have  a  sale." 

III.— 13 


146  THE   TWO   WIVES,    OR, 


"  A  sale  I" 

"  Yes,  a  sale.  And  this  will  give  you  more 
money.  We  will  live  at  half  the  present  cost,  and 
you  will  get  back  into  your  business  at  least  a  thou- 
sand dollars  that  never  should  have  been  taken 
from  it." 

"  But  the  sacrifice,  Mary  !"  said  Wilkinson,  as  if 
seeking  an  argument  against  his  wife. 

"  Did  you  never  hear  of  such  a  thing,"  she  re- 
plied, "  as  throwing  over  a  part  of  the  cargo  to  save 
the  ship  ?" 

•  "  Bless  you  !  Bless  you,  Mary  !"  exclaimed 
Wilkinson,  in  a  broken  voice,  as  he  hid  his  face 
upon  his  wife's  bosom.  "  You  have,  indeed,  saved 
me  from  shipwreck,  body  and  soul,  just  as  I  was 
about  to  be  thrown  upon  the  breakers !  Heaven 
will  reward  your  devoted  love,  your  tenderness,  your 
long-suffering  and  patient  forbearance.  Thank  God 
for  such  a  wife  !" 

And  the  whole  frame  of  the  strong  man  qui- 
vered. 

It  was  many  minutes  before  either  of  them 
spoke  j  then  Mr.  Wilkinson  lifted  his  face,  and  said 
calmly — 

"  Yes,  Mary,  we  will  do  as  you  propose  ;  for  you 
have  spoken  wisely.  I  will  need  every  dollar  in 
my  business  that  I  can  get.  And  now  let  me  say 
a  few  words  more.  In  times  past  I  have  not  been 
as  kind  to  you — as  considerate — " 


LOST  AND  WON.  147 


"  Dear  husband  !  let  the  past  be  as  if  it  had  not 
been.  You  were  always  kind,  gentle,  loving" — 

"  Let  me  speak  what  is  in  my  mind.  I  wish  to 
give  it  utterance/'  interrupted  Wilkinson.  "In 
times  past,  I  have  too  often  sought  companionship 
from  home,  and  such  companionship  has  ever  been 
dangerous  and  debasing.  I  have  this  day  resolved 
to  correct  that  error;  and  I  will  keep  my  resolution. 
Henceforth,  home  shall  be  to  me  the  dearest  place. 
And  there  is  one  more  thing  I  wish  to  say" — 

The  voice  of  Wilkinson  changed  its  expression, 
while  a  slight  flush  came  into  his  face. 

"  There  is  one  habit  that  I  have  indulged,  and 
which  I  feel  to  be  an  exceedingly  dangerous  one. 
That  habit  I  have  solemnly  promised,  in  the  sight 
of  Heaven,  to  correct.  I  will  no  longer  put  to  my 
lips  the  cup  of  confusion." 

Wilkinson  was  not  prepared  for  the  effect  these 
words  had  upon  his  wife,  who,  instantly  uttering  a 
cry  of  joy,  flung  herself  into  her  husband's  arms, 
sobbing — 

"  Oh  !  I  am  the  happiest  woman  alive  this  day  I" 


148  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

To  Ellis  the  trials  of  the  next  two  weeks  were  of 
the  severest  character.  Yet,  he  kept  himself  away 
from  drinking-houses,  and  struggled  manfully  to  re- 
tain his  feet  under  him.  In  this  he  was  only  sus- 
tained by  the  kindness  of  his  wife's  manner,  and 
the  interest  she  seemed  to  feel  in  him.  Had  she 
acted  towards  him  with  her  usual  want  of  affection- 
ate consideration,  he  would  have  fallen  under  the 
heavy  burdens  that  rested  upon  him.  Scarcely  a 
day  passed  in  which  he  was  not  visited  by  Carlton's 
agent,  and  fretted  almost  past  endurance  by  his 
importunities.  But  he  steadily  refused  to  take  up 
any  of  the  due-bills;  at  the  same  time  that  he 
promised  to  cancel  them  at  some  future  period. 
This  did  not,  of  course,  suit  the  gambler,  who  sent 
threats  of  an  immediate  resort  to  legal  proceedings. 

Of  all  this  Cara  knew  nothing ;  yet  she  could  not 
help  seeing  that  her  husband  was  troubled,  and  this 
caused  her  to  muse  on  what  she  had  done  with  in- 
creasing uneasiness.  She  no  longer  took  any  pleasure 
in  the  thoughts  of  new  parlour  carpets.  But  it  was 
too  late,  now,  to  retrace  her  steps  of  error.  The 
carpets  were  already  in  the  hands  of  the  upholsterers, 
and  a  few  days  would  see  them  on  the  floor. 

"  I  must  tell  him  about  them,"  said  Cara  to  her- 


LOST  AND  WON.  149 


self,  about  a  week  after  her  act  of  folly,  as  she  sat, 
towards  the  close  of  day,  brooding  over  what  she 
had  done.  "  To  be  forewarned  is  to  be  forearmed. 
In  a  few  days  the  carpets  will  be  sent  home,  and 
then"— 

A  slight  inward  shudder  was  felt  by  Cara,  as  she 
paused,  with  the  sentence  unfinished. 

"  But  I'm  foolish/'  she  added,  recovering  herself, 
"very  foolish.  Why  need  I  be  so  afraid  of  Henry? 
I  have  some  freedom  of  action  left — some  right  of 
choice.  These  were  not  all  yielded  in  our  marriage. 
His  will  was  not  made  the  imperative  law  of  all  my 
actions.  No — no.  And  here  lies  the  ground  of 
difference  between  us.  The  fact  is,  he  is  to  blame 
for  this  very  thing,  for  he  drove  me  to  it." 

But  such  thoughts  did  not  satisfy  the  mind  of 
Mrs.  Ellis,  nor  remove  the  sense  of  wrong  that  op- 
pressed her  spirit.  So,  in  a  little  while,  she  came 
back  to  her  resolution  to  tell  her  husband,  on  that 
very  evening,  all  about  what  she  had  done.  This 
was  her  state  of  mind,  when  her  friend  Mrs.  Claxton 
called  in.  After  the  first  pleasant  greeting,  the  lady, 
assuming  a  slight  gravity  of  manner,  said — 

"  Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Ellis,  that  I've  thought  a 
good  deal  about  the  matter  we  talked  of  the  last 
time  I  saw  you  ?" 

"  To  what  do  you  allude  ?"  asked  Cara. 

"  To  running  up  bills  without  your  husband's 
knowledge.  All  men  are  not  alike,  and  Mr.  Ellis 


150  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


might  not  take  it  so  easily  as  Mr.  Claxton  has  done. 
The  fact  is,  I  have  been  checked  off  a  little,  so  to 
speak,  within  a  day  or  two,  and  it  has  rather  set  me 
to  thinking." 

"In  what  way?"  inquired  Mrs.  Ellis. 

"  I  will  tell  you — but,  remember,  this  is  in  the 
strictest  confidence.  It  might  injure  my  husband's 
business  if  it  got  out.  In  fact,  I  don't  think  I  have 
any  right  to  tell  you ;  but,  as  I  advised  you  to  follow 
my  example,  I  must  give  you  convincing  proof  that 
this  example  is  a  bad  one.  Last  evening,  when  Mr. 
Claxton  came  home,  he  looked  unusually  serious. 
'Is  any  thing  wrong ?'  I  asked  of  him,  manifesting 
in  my  voice  and  manner  the  concern  I  really  felt. 
'  Yes,'  said  he,  looking  me  fixedly  in  the  eyes — '  there 
is  something  wrong.  I  came  within  an  ace  of  being 
protested  to-day.'  '  Indeed  !  How  ?'  I  exclaimed. 
1  Listen/  said  he,  '  and  you  shall  hear ;  and  while 
you  hear,  believe,  for  I  solemnly  declare  that  every 
word  I  utter  is  the  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth. 
I  could  not  spare  the  cash  when  your  new  carpet 
and  upholstery  bill  came  in,  so  I  gave  a  note  for  the 
amount,  which  was  over  two  hundred  dollars.  The 
note  was  for  six  months,  and  fell  due  to-day.  I  also 
gave  a  note  for  your  new  sofa,  chairs,  and  French 
bedstead,  because  I  had  no  cash  with  which  to  pay 
the  bill.  It  was  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and 
the  note  given  at  four  months.  That  also  fell  due 
to-day.  Now,  apart  from  these,  I  had  more  than  my 


LOST   AND   WON.  151 


hands  full  to  take  up  business  paper,  this  being  an 
unusually  heavy  day.  At  every  point  where  I  could 
do  so  I  borrowed ;  but  at  half-past  two  o'clock  I  was 
still  short  the  amount  of  these  two  notes.  "While  in 
the  utmost  doubt  and  perplexity  as  to  what  I  should 
do  in  my  difficulty,  two  notes  were  handed  in.  One 
contained  a  dry  goods  bill  which  you  had  run  up  of 
over  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  the  other  a 
shoe  bill  of  twenty-five.  I  cannot  describe  to  you 
the  paralyzing  sense  of  discouragement  that  instantly 
came  over  me.  It  is  hopeless  for  me  to  struggle  on 
at  such  a  disadvantage,  said  I  to  myself — utterly 
hopeless.  And  I  determined  to  give  up  the  strug- 
gle— to  let  my  notes  lie  over,  and  thus  end  the  un- 
equal strife  in  which  I  was  engaged ;  for,  to  this,  I 
saw  it  must  come  at  last.  Full  twenty  minutes 
went  by,  and  I  still  sat  in  this  state  of  irresolution. 
Then,  as  a  vivid  perception  of  consequences  came  to 
my  mind,  I  aroused  myself  to  make  a  last,  desperate 
effort.  Hurriedly  drawing  a  note  at  thirty  days  for 
five  hundred  dollars,  I  took  it  to  a  money-lender, 
whom  I  knew  I  could  tempt  by  the  offer  of  a  large 
discount.  He  gave  me  for  it  a  check  on  the  bank 
in  which  my  notes  were  deposited,  for  four  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars.  Just  as  the  clock  was  striking 
three,  I  entered  the  banking-house/ 

"  My  husband  paused.  I  saw  by  the  workings 
of  his  face  and  by  the  large  beads  of  perspiration 
which  stood  upon  his  forehead,  that  he  was  indeed 


152  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

in  earnest.  I  never  was  so  startled  by  any  thing  in 
my  life.  It  seemed  for  a  time  as  if  it  were  only  a 
dream.  I  need  not  say  how  sincerely  I  repented  of 
what  I  had  done,  nor  how  I  earnestly  promised  my 
husband  never  again  to  contract  a  debt  of  even  a 
dollar  without  his  knowledge.  I  hope,"  added  Mrs. 
Claxton,  "that  you  have  not  yet  been  influenced 
by  my  advice  and  example ;  and  I  come  thus  early 
to  speak  in  your  ears  a  word  of  caution.  Pray  do 
not  breathe  aught  of  what  I  have  told  you — it  might 
injure  my  husband — 1  only  make  the  revelation  as 
a  matter  of  duty  to  one  I  tried  to  lead  astray." 

The  thoughts  of  Mrs.  Ellis  did  not  run  in  a  more 
peaceful  channel  after  the  departure  of  her  friend. 
But  she  resolved  to  confess  every  thing  to  her  hus- 
band, and  promise  to  conform  herself  more  to  his 
wishes  in  the  future. 

"What/'  she  said,  "if  he  should  be  in  like  busi- 
ness difficulties  with  Mr.  Claxton  ?  He  has  looked 
serious  for  a  week  past,  and  has  remained  at  home 
every  evening  during  the  time — a  thing  unusual. 
And  I  don't  think  he  has  used  liquor  as  freely  as 
common.  Something  is  the  matter.  Oh,  I  wish  I 
had  not  done  that !" 

While  such  thoughts  were  passing  through  the 
mind  of  Mrs.  Ellis,  her  husband  came  home.  She 
met  him  with  an  affectionate  manner,  which  he  re- 
turned. But  there  was  a  cloud  on  his  brow  that 
even  her  smile  could  not  drive  away.  Even  as  she 


LOST   AND   WON.  153 


met  him,  words  of  confession  were  on  the  tongue  of 
Mrs.  Ellis,  but  she  shrank  from  giving  them  utterance. 

After  tea  she  resolved  to  speak.  But,  when  this 
set-time  of  acknowledgment  came,  she  was  as  little 
prepared  for  the  task  as  before.  Mr.  Ellis  looked 
so  troubled,  that  she  could  not  find  it  in  her  heart 
to  add  to  the  pressure  on  his  mind  an  additional 
weight.  And  so  the  evening  passed,  the  secret  of 
Mrs.  Ellis  remaining  undivulged.  And  so,  day  after 
day  went  on. 

At  length,  one  morning,  the  new  carpet  was  sent 
home  and  put  down.  It  was  a  beautiful  carpet; 
but,  as  Mrs.  Ellis  stood  looking  upon  it,  after  the 
upholsterer  had  departed,  she  found  none  of  the 
pleasure  she  anticipated. 

"  Oh,  why,  why,  why  did  I  do  this  ?"  she  mur- 
mured. "  Why  was  I  tempted  to  such  an  act  of 
folly?" 

Gradually  the  new  carpet  faded  from  the  eyes  of 
Mrs.  Ellis,  and  she  saw  only  the  troubled  face  of 
her  husband.  It  was  within  an  hour  of  dinner- 
time, and  in  painful  suspense  she  waited  his  arrival. 
Various  plans  for  subduing  the  excitement  which 
she  saw  would  be  created  in  his  mind,  and  for  re- 
conciling him  to  the  expense  of  the  carpets,  were 
thought  over  by  Mrs.  Ellis :  among  those  was  a  pro- 
position that  he  should  give  a  note  for  the  bill, 
which  she  would  pay,  when  it  matured,  out  of  savings 
from  her  weekly  allowance  of  money. 


154  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

"  I  can  and  will  do  it,"  said  Mrs.  Ellis,  resolutely : 
her  thought  dwelt  longer  and  longer  on  this  sugges- 
tion. "  I  hope  he  will  not  be  too  angry  to  listen  to 
what  I  have  to  say,  when  he  comes  home  and  sees 
the  carpet.  He's  rather  hasty  sometimes." 

"While  in  the  midst  of  such  thoughts,  Mrs.  Ellis, 
who  had  left  the  parlour,  heard  the  shutting  of  the 
street-door,  and  the  tread  of  her  husband  in  the 
passage.  Glancing  at  the  timepiece  on  the  mantel, 
she  saw  that  it  was  half  an  hour  earlier  than  he 
usually  came  home.  Eagerly  she  bent  her  ear  to 
listen.  All  was  soon  still.  He  had  entered  the 
rooms  below,  or  paused  on  the  threshold.  A  few 
breathless  moments  passed,  then  a  smothered  excla- 
mation was  heard,  followed  by  two  or  three  heavy 
foot-falls  and  the  jarring  of  the  outer  door.  Mr. 
Ellis  had  left  the  house  ! 

"  Gone  !  What  does  it  mean  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Ellis,  striking  her  hands  together,'  while  a  strange 
uneasiness  fell  upon  her  heart.  A  long  time  she  sat 
listening  for  sounds  of  his  return;  but  she  waited  in 
vain.  It  was  fully  an  hour  past  their  usual  time  for 
dining,  when  she  sat  down  to  the  table  with  her 
children,  but  not  to  partake  of  food  herself.  Leaving 
Mrs.  Ellis  to  pass  the  remainder  of  that  unhappy 
day  with  her  own  troubled  and  upbraiding  thoughts, 
we  will  return  to  her  husband,  and  see  how  it  fares 
with  him. 


LOST  AND   WON.  155 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FOR  hours  after  his  wife  had  sunk  into  the  forget- 
fulness  of  sleep,  Ellis  lay  awake,  pondering  over  the 
ways  and  means  by  which  he  was  to  meet  his  en- 
gagements for  the  next  day,  which,  exclusive  of 
Carlton's  demand,  were  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a 
thousand  dollars.  During  the  previous  two  weeks, 
he  had  paid  a  good  deal  of  money,  but  he  was  really 
but  little  better  off  therefor,  the  money  so  paid 
having  been  mainly  procured  through  temporary 
loans  from  business  friends.  Most  of  it  he  had 
promised  to  return  on  the  morrow.  Earnestly  as 
the  mind  of  Ellis  dwelt  on  the  subject,  he  was  not 
able  to  devise  the  means  of  getting  safely  through 
the  next  day. 

"And  what  if  I  do  get  over  the  difficult  place  ?" 
was  the  desponding  conclusion  of  his  mind — "  ulti- 
mate failure  is  inevitable,  unless  a  great  reduction 
can  be  made  in  expenses.  At  present,  our  living 
exceeds  the  profits  on  my  business.  Ah  !  if  I  could 
only  make  Cara  understand  this!  She  has  been 
more  considerate  and  wife-like  of  late ;  but  I  fear  to 
say  one  word  about  the  embarrassed  state  of  my 
affairs,  lest  the  sunshine  of  love  be  again  darkened 
with  clouds  and  storms." 

With  such  thoughts  in  his  mind,  Ellis  fell  asleep. 


156        .          THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


On  the  next  morning,  he  repaired  early  to  his  place 
of  business,  in  order  to  have  time  fully  to  uipv.-t 
his  plan  of  operations  for  the  day.  He  had  many 
doubts  as  to  his  ability  to  get  through,  but  was 
resolute  not  to  yield  without  a  vigorous  struggle. 
Of  the  amount  to  be  paid,  only  four  hundred  was 
for  notes  in  bank.  The  rest  was  on  borrowed  money 
account.  Fully  an  hour  and  a  half  was  spent  in 
drawing  off  certain  accounts,  and  in  determining  the 
line  of  operations  for  the  morning.  On  receiving  two 
hundred  dollars  for  these  accounts,  Ellis  thought  he 
might  with  safety  calculate ;  and  a  lad  was  sent  out 
to  see  to  their  collection.  Then  he  started  forth 
himself.  First  in  order,  he  deemed  it  best  to  see 
if  he  could  not  get  a  little  more  time  on  some  of  his 
borrowed  money.  This  was  a  delicate  operation, 
and  its  attempt  could  only,  he  felt,  be  justified  by 
the  exigencies  of  the  case.  The  largest  sum  to  be 
returned  was  three  hundred  dollars.  He  had  bor- 
rowed it  from  a  merchant  in  good  circumstances, 
who  could  at  any  time  command  his  thousands,  and 
to  whose  credit  there  usually  remained  heavy  balances 
in  bank.  But  he  was  exceedingly  punctilious  in  all 
business  matters. 

Both  these  facts  Ellis  knew.  It  would  put  the  mer- 
chant to  no  inconvenience  whatever  to  continue  the 
accommodation  for  ten  days  longer ;  but  the  policy 
of  asking  this  was  felt  to  be  a  very  questionable  one, 
as  it  would  be  most  likely  to  create  in  his  mind  a 


LOST   AND   WON.  157 


doubt  of  Ellis's  standing,  and  a  doubt  in  that  quarter 
would  be  injurious.  Still,  the  case  was  so  pressing, 
that  Ellis  determined  to  see  him.  So,  assuming  a 
pleasant,  partly  unconcerned  air,  he  called  upon  the 
merchant. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  A ,"  said  he,  in  a  cheer- 
ful tone. 

"Good  morning,  friend  Ellis,"  returned  the  mer- 
chant, pushing  his  spectacles  above  his  forehead,  and 
fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  face  of  his  visitor,  with  a 
sharp,  penetrating  look  which  rather  belied  the  smile 
that  played  about  his  lips. 

"  Let  me  see  !  Isn't  it  to-day  that  I  am  to  return 
you  the  three  hundred  dollars  borrowed  last  week  ?" 

"  I  -don't  remember,  but  can  tell  you  in  a  mo- 
ment," replied  A ,  replacing  his  glasses,  and 

taking  from  a  pigeon-hole  in  the  desk  before  which 
he  sat  a  small  memorandum-book.  After  consulting 
this,  he  replied — 

"Yes:  you  are  right.  It  is  to  be  returned 
to-day." 

"  So  I  thought.  Very  well.  I'll  send  you  a  check 
around  during  the  morning.  That  will  answer,  I 
presume  ?" 

"  Oh,  certainly — certainly." 

So  far,  nothing  was  gained.  A  hurried  debate,  as 
to  the  policy  of  asking  a  few  days  more  on  the  loan, 
took  place  in  the  mind  of  Ellis.  He  then  said — 

"  If  just  the  same  to  you,  it  will  be  more  con- 

III.— 14 


158  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


venient  for  me  to  return  this  money  on  the  day  after 
to-morrow." 

There  was  a  slight  contraction  of  brow  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  A ,  who  replied,  rather  coldly — 

"  I  shall  want  it  to-day,  Mr.  Ellis." 

"  Oh;  very  well — very  well,"  said  Ellis,  hiding  art- 
fully his  disappointment.  "  It  will  be  all  the  same. 
I  will  send  you  around  a  check  in  a  little  while." 

As  he  left  the  store,  A said  to  himself — 

"  Of  all  things,  I  like  to  see  punctuality  in  the 
matter  of  engagements.  The  man  who  promises  to 
return  in  an  hour  the  money  he  borrows  from  you 
should  keep  his  word  to  the  minute." 

The  failure  to  get  a  few  days'  extension  of  time 
on  so  important  a  sum  had  the  effect  to  dispirit  Ellis 
a  good  deal.  He  left  the  store  of  the  merchant  in 
a  despondent  mood,  and  was  returning  towards  his 
own  place  of  business,  when  he  met  Wilkinson. 
Grasping  the  hand  of  the  latter  with  the  eagerness 
of  one  who  knows,  in  a  great  extremity,  that  he  is 
face  to  face  with  a  real  friend,  he  said — 

"  You  must  help  me  to-day." 

"  I  don't  see  that  it  is  possible,  Ellis,"  was  replied. 
"  What  amount  do  you  want  ?" 

"  I  must  have  a  thousand  dollars." 

"So  much?" 

"  Yes.  But  where  the  sum  is  to  be  obtained  is 
more  than  I  can  divine." 

"  Is  all  to  go  into  bank  ?" 


LOST  AND   WON.  159 

"  Xo.     Sis  hundred  is  for  borrowed  money." 

"  To  whom  is  the  latter  due  ?" 

"  I  must  return  three  hundred  to  A ." 

"  He  can  do  without  it  for  a  few  days  longer." 

"I  have  just  seen  him;  but  he  says  it  must  be 
returned  to-day." 

"  He  does  ?" 

"Yes.     He  wants  to  use  it." 

Wilkinson  stood  thoughtfully  for  some  time. 

"  Can  you  return  the  sum  in  a  week  ?"  he  then 
asked. 

"  0  yes;  easily." 

"  Very  well  I'll  go  and  ask  him  to  loan  me  three 
hundred  for  a  week.  He'll  do  it,  I  know.  You 
shall  have  the  use  of  it  for  the  time  specified:" 

"  If  you  can  get  me  that  sum,  you  will  place  me 
under  an  everlasting  obligation,"  said  Ellis,  with 
more  feeling  than  he  wished  to  display. 

Twenty  minutes  afterward  the  money  was  in  his 

hands.  It  had  been  obtained  from  A ,  and 

during  the  morning  returned  to  him  in  payment  of 
Ellis's  loan. 

So  much  accomplished,  Ellis  turned  his  thoughts 
towards  the  ways  and  means  for  raising  the  seven 
hundred  dollars  yet  required  for  the  day's  business. 
By  twelve  o'clock  all  of  his  borrowed  money  was 
returned;  but  his  notes  still  remained  in  bank.  In 
view  of  the  difficulties  yet  to  be  surmounted,  he  felt 
that  he  had  erred  in  not  making  it  the  first  business- 


160  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

of  the  day  to  take  up  his  notes,  and  thus  get  beyond 
the  danger  of  protest.  But  it  was  too  late  now  for 
regrets  to  be  of  any  avail.  Four  hundred  dollars 
must  come  from  some  quarter,  or  ruin  was  certain. 

But  from  whence  was  aid  to  come  ?  He  had  not 
spent  an  idle  moment  since  he  came  to  his  store  in 
the  morning,  and  had  so  fully  passed  over  the  limits 
within  which  his  resources  lay,  that  little  ground 
yet  remained  to  be  broken,  and  the  promise  of  that 
was  small. 

While  Ellis  stood  meditating,  in  much  perplexity 
of  mind,  what  step  next  to  take,  a  man  entered  his 
store,  and,  approaching  him,  read  aloud  from  a 
paper  which  he  drew  from  his  pocket,  a  summons 
to  answer  before  an  alderman  in  the  case  of  Carlton, 
who  had  brought  separate  suits  on  his  due-bills,  each 
being  for  an  amount  less  than  one  hundred  dollars. 

"  Very  well,  I  will  attend  to  it,"  said  Ellis  in  a 
voice  of  assumed  calmness,  and  the  officer  retired. 

Slowly  seating  himself  in  a  chair  that  stood  by  a 
low  writing-desk,  the  unhappy  man  tried  to  compose 
his  thoughts,  in  order  that  he  might  see  precisely  in 
what  position  this  new  move  would  place  him.  He 
could  bring  nothing  in  bar  of  Carlton's  claim  unless 
the  plea  of  its  being  a  gambling  debt  were  urged ;  and 
that  would  only  ruin  his  credit  in  the  business  com- 
munity. A  hearing  of  the  case  was  to  take  place 
in  a  week,  when  judgment  would  go  against  him,  and 
theii  the  quick  work  of  an  execution  would  render 


LOST   AND   WON.  161 


the  immediate  payment  of  the  five  hundred  dollars 
necessary.  All  this  Ellis  revolved  in  his  thoughts, 
and  then  deliberately  asked  himself  the  question,  if  it 
were  not  better  to  give  up  at  once.  For  a  brief  space 
of  time,  in  the  exhausted  state  produced  by  the  un- 
equal struggle  in  which  he  was  engaged,  he  felt  like 
abandoning  every  thing;  but  a  too- vivid  realization 
of  the  consequences  that  would  inevitably  follow 
spurred  his  mind  into  a  resolution  to  make  one  more 
vigorous  effort  to  overcome  the  remaining  difficulties 
of  the  day.  With  this  new  purpose,  came  a  new 
suggestion  of  means,  and  he  was  in  the  act  of  leav- 
ing his  store  to  call  upon  a  friend  not  before  thought 
of,  when  a  carpet  dealer,  whom  he  knew  very  well, 
came  in,  and  presented  a  bill. 

«  What  is  this  ?"  asked  Mr.  Ellis. 

"  The  bill  for  your  parlour  carpets,"  was  answered. 

"  What  parlour  carpets  ?  You  are  in  an  error. 
We  have  no  new  parlour  carpets.  The  bill  is 
meant  for  some  one  else." 

"  Oh,  no/'  returned  the  man,  smiling.  "  The 
carpets  were  ordered  two  weeks  ago ;  and  this  morn- 
ing they  were  put  down  by  the  upholsterer." 

"Who  ordered  them?" 

«  Mrs.  Ellis." 

«  She  did !" 

"  Yes ;  and  directed  the  bill  sent  in  to  you  ?" 

"  What  is  the  amount  ?" 

"  One  hundred  and  sixty-eight  dollars." 

14* 


THE   TWO   WIVES;    OR, 


"Very  well,"  said  Ellis,  controlling  himself,  "I 
will  attend  to  it." 

The  man  retired,  leaving  the  mind  of  Ellis  in  a 
complete  sea  of  agitation. 

"  If  this  be  so,"  he  muttered  in  a  low,  angry  voice, 
"  then  is  all  over  !  To  struggle  against  such  odds 
is  hopeless.  But  I  cannot  believe  it.  There  is — 
there  must  be  an  error.  The  carpets  are  not  mine. 
He  has  mistaken  some  other  woman  for  my  wife, 
and  some  other  dwelling  for  mine.  Yes,  yes,  it 
must  be  so.  Cara  would  never  dare  to  do  this ! 
But  all  doubt  may  be  quickly  settled." 

And  with,  this  last  sentence  on  his  lips,  Ellis  left 
his  store,  and  walked  with  hurried  steps  homeward. 
Entering  his  house,  he  stood  for  a  moment  or  two 
in  one  of  the  parlour  doors.  A  single  glance  suf- 
ficed. Alas  !  it  was  but  too  true. 

"  Mad  woman !"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  low,  bitter 
tone.  "  Mad  woman !  You  have  driven  me  over 
the  precipice !" 

Turning  quickly  away,  he  left  the  house — to 
return  to  his  store  ? — Alas !  no.  "With  him  the 
struggle  was  over.  The  manly  spirit,  that  had,  for 
nearly  two  weeks,  battled  so  bravely  with  difficulty 
without  and  temptation  within,  yielded  under  this 
last  assault.  In  less  than  an  hour,  all  sense  of  pain 
was  lost  in  the  stupor  of  inebriation  ! 


LOST   AND   WON.  163 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WE  will  not  trace,  minutely,  the  particulars  at- 
tendant on  the  headlong  downward  course  of  Henry 
Ellis.  The  causes  leading  thereto  have  been  fully 
set  forth,  and  we  need  not  refer  back  to  them. 
Enough,  that  the  fall  was  complete.  The  wretched 
man  appeared  to  lose  all  strength  of  mind,  all  hope 
in  life,  all  self-respect.  Not  even  a  feeble  effort  was 
opposed  to  the  down-rushing  torrent  of  disaster  that 
swept  away  every  vestige  of  his  business.  For  more 
than  a  week  he  kept  himself  so  stupefied  with  brandy, 
that  neither  friends  nor  creditors  could  get  from  him 
any  intelligible  statement  in  regard  to  his  affairs. 
In  the  wish  of  the  latter  for  an  assignment,  he  pas- 
sively acquiesced,  and  permitted  all  his  effects  to  be 
taken  from  his  hands.  And  so  he  was  thrown  upon 
the  world,  with  his  family,  helpless,  penniless, 
crushed  in  spirit,  and  weak  as  a  child  in  the  strong 
grasp  of  an  over-mastering  appetite,  which  had  long 
been  gathering  strength  for  his  day  of  weakness. 

Over  the  sad  history  of  the  succeeding  five  years 
let  us  draw  a  veil.  We  have  no  heart  to  picture  its 
suffering,  its  desolation,  its  hopelessness.  If,  in  the 
beginning,  there  was  too  much  pride  in  the  heart  of 
Mrs.  Ellis,  all  was  crushed  out  under  the  iron  heel 
of  grim  adversity.  If  she  had  once  thought  too 
much  of  herself,  and  too  little  of  her  husband,  a 


164  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

great  change  succeeded ;  for  she  clung  to  him  in  all 
the  cruel  and  disgusting  forms  his  abandonment  as- 
sumed, and,  with  a  self-sacrificing  devotion,  struggled 
with  the  fearful  odds  against  her  to  retain  for  her 
husband  and  children  some  little  warmth  in  the 
humble  home  where  they  were  hidden  from  the 
world  in  which  they  once  moved. 

From  the  drunkard,  angels  withdraw  themselves, 
and  evil  spirits  come  into  nearer  companionship; 
hence,  the  bestiality  and  cruelty  of  drunkenness. 
The  man,  changing  his  internal  associates,  receives 
by  inflex  a  new  order  of  influence,  and  passively 
acts  therefrom.  He  becomes,  for  the  time,  the  hu- 
man agent  by  which  evil  spirits  effect  their  wicked 
purposes;  and  it  usually  happens  that  those  who  are 
nearest  allied  to  him,  and  who  have  the  first  claims 
on  him  for  support,  protection,  and  love,  are  they 
who  feel  the  heaviest  weight  of  infernal  malice. 
The  husband  and  father  too  often  becomes,  in  the 
hands  of  his  evil  associates,  the  cruel  persecutor  of 
those  he  should  love  and  guard  with  the  tenderest 
solicitude.  So  it  was  in  the  case  of  Henry  Ellis. 
His  manly  nature  underwent  a  gradually  progres- 
sing change,  until  the  image  of  God  was  welluigh 
obliterated  from  his  soul.  After  the  lapse  of  five 
miserable  years,  let  us  introduce  him  and  his  family 
once  more  to  the  reader. 

Five  years  !  What  a  work  has  been  done  in  that 
time !  Not  in  a  pleasant  home,  surrounded  with 


LOST   AND   WON.  165 


every  comfort,  as  we  last  saw  them,  will  they  be 
found.  Alas,  no  ! 

It  was  late  in  the  year.  Frost  had  already  done 
its  work  upon  the  embrowned  forests,  and  leaf  by 
leaf  the  withered  foliage  had  dropped  away  or  been 
swept  in  clouds  before  the  autumnal  winds.  Feebler 
and  feebler  grew,  daily,  the  sun's  slanting  rays, 
colder  the  air,  and  more  cheerless  the  aspect  of 
nature. 

One  evening, — it  was  late  in  November,  and  the 
day  had  been  damp  and  cold, — a  woman,  whose  thin 
care-worn  face  and  slender  form  marked  her  as  an 
invalid,  or  one  whose  spirits  had  been  broken  by 
trouble,  was  busying  herself  in  the  preparation  of 
supper.  A  girl,  between  twelve  and  thirteen  years 
of  age,  was  trying  to  amuse  a  child  two  years  old, 
who,  from  some  cause,  was  in  a  fretful  humour; 
and  a  little  girl  in  her  seventh  year  was  occupied 
with  a  book,  in  which  she  was  spelling  out  a  lesson 
that  had  been  given  by  her  mother.  This  was  the 
family,  or,  rather,  a  part  of  the  family  of  Henry 
Ellis.  Two  members  were  absent,  the  father  and 
the  oldest  boy.  The  room  was  small,  and  meagerly 
furnished,  though  every  thing  was  clean  and  in 
order.  In  the  centre  of  the  floor,  extending,  perhaps, 
over  half  thereof,  was  a  piece  of  faded  carpet.  On 
this  a  square,  unpainted  pine  table  stood,  covered 
with  a  clean  cloth  and  a  few  dishes.  Six  common 
wooden  chairs,  one  or  two  low  stools  or  benches,  a 


166  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


stained  work-stand  without  drawers,  and  a  few  other 
necessary  articles,  including  a  bed  in  one  corner, 
completed  the  furniture  of  this  apartment,  which 
was  used  as  kitchen  and  sitting-room  by  the  family, 
and,  with  a  small  room  adjoining,  constituted  the 
entire  household  facilities  of  the  family. 

"  Henry  is  late  this  evening,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Ellis,  as  she  laid  the  last  piece  of  toast  she  had  been 
making  on  the  dish  standing  near  the  fire.  "  He 
ought  to  have  been  here  half  an  hour  ago." 

"And  father  is  late  too,"  said  Kate,  the  oldest 
daughter,  who  was  engaged  with  the  fretful  child. 

"  Yes — he  is  late,"  returned  Mrs.  Ellis,  as  if 
speaking  to  herself.  And  she  sighed  heavily. 

Just  then  the  sound  of  feet  was  heard  in  the  pas- 
sage without. 

"  There's  Henry  now,"  said  Kate. 

And  in  a  moment  after  the  boy  entered.  His 
face  did  not  wear  the  cheerful  expression  with  which 
he  usually  met  the  waiting  ones  at  home.  His 
mother  noticed  the  change ;  but  asked  no  question 
then  as  to  the  cause. 

"I  wish  father  was  home,"  said  Mrs.  Ellis. 
"  Supper  is  all  ready." 

"  I  don't  think  it's  any  use  to  wait  for  him,"  re- 
turned Henry. 

"  Why  not  ?"  asked  the  mother,  looking  with 
some  surprise  at  her  son,  in  whose  voice  was  a 
covert  meaning. 


LOST  IND  WON.  167 

"Because  he  won't  be  home  to  supper." 

"  Have  you  seen  him,  Henry  ?" 

Mrs.  Ellis  fixed  her  eyes  earnestly  upon  her  son. 

"  lTes,  mother.  I  saw  him  go  into  a  tavern  as  I 
was  coming  along.  I  went  in  and  tried  to  persuade 
him  to  come  home  with  me.  But  he  was  angry 
about  something,  and  told  me  to  go  about  my  busi- 
ness. I  then  said — 'Do,  father,  come  home  with 
me/  and  took  hold  of  his  arm,  when  he  turned 
quickly  around,  and  slapped  me  in  the  face  with  the 
back  of  his  hand." 

The  boy,  on  saying  this,  burst  into  tears,  and 
sobbed  for  some  time  violently. 

"  Oh,  Henry  !  did  he  do  that  ?" 

Such  was  the  mother's  exclamation.  She  tried  to 
control  her  feelings,  but  could  not.  In  a  moment 
or  two,  tears  gushed  over  her  face. 

The  only  one  who  appeared  calm  was  Kate, 
Henry's  oldest  sister.  She  uttered  no  expression  of 
pain  or  surprise,  but,  after  hearing  what  her  brother 
said,  looked  down  upon  the  floor,  and  seemed  lost  in 
meditation. 

"  My  poor  children  !"  such  were  the  thoughts  that 
passed  through  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Ellis.  "  If  I  could 
only  screen  you  from,  these  dreadful  consequences ! 
If  I  only  were  the  sufferer,  I  could  bear  the  burden 
uncomplainingly.  Ah  !  will  this  cup  never  be  full? 
Is  there  no  hope  ?  How  earnestly  I  have  sought  to 
win  him  back  again,  Heaven  only  knows." 


168  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


From  these  reflections  Mrs.  Ellis  was  aroused  by 
the  voice  of  Kate,  who  had  arisen  up  and  was  taking 
from  a  nail  in  the  wall  her  bonnet  and  an  old  me- 
rino coat. 

"  Where  is  the  tavern,  Henry  ?"  said  she. 

"  What  tavern  ?"  answered  the  boy. 

"  The  tavern  where  you  saw  father." 

"  In  Second  street." 

"Why  do  you  wish  to  know?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Ellis. 

"  I  will  go  for  him.     He'll  come  home  for  me." 

"  No — no,  Kate.  Don't  think  of  such  a  thing  !" 
said  Mrs.  Ellis,  speaking  from  the  impulse  of  the 
moment. 

"It  won't  be  of  any  use,"  remarked  Henry. 
"  Besides,  it's  very  dark  out,  sister,  and  the  tavern 
where  I  saw  him  is  a  long  distance  from  here.  In- 
deed I  wouldn't  go,  Kate.  He  isn't  at  all  himself." 

The  young  girl  was  not  in  the  least  influenced  by 
this  opposition,  but,  rather,  strengthened  in  her  pur- 
pose. She  knew  that  the  air  was  damp  and  chilly, 
from  an  approaching  easterly  storm ;  and  the  thought 
of  his  being  exposed  to  cold  and  rain  at  night,  in 
the  streets,  touched  her  heart  with  a  painful  interest 
in  her  erring,  debased,  and  fallen  parent. 

"  It  will  rain  to-night,"  said  she,  looking  at  her 
brother. 

"  I  felt  a  fine  mist  in  the  driving  wind  just  as  I 
came  near  the  door,"  replied  Henry. 


LOST   AND   WON.  169 


"  If  father  is  not  himself,  he  may  fall  in  the  street, 
and  perish  in  the  cold." 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  any  danger  of  that,  sister. 
He  will  be  home  after  awhile.  At  any  rate,  there 
is  little  chance  of  your  finding  him,  for  he  won't  be 
likely  to  remain  long  at  the  tavern  where  I  left 
him." 

"  If  I  can't  find  him,  so  much  the  worse,"  replied 
the  girl,  firmly.  "  But,  unless  mother  forbids  my 
going,  I  must  seek  him  and  bring  him  home." 

Kate  turned  her  eyes  full  upon  her  mother's  face, 
as  she  said  this,  and,  in  an  attitude  of  submission, 
awaited  her  reply. 

t:  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Ellis,  after  a  long  silence, 
"  that  little  good  will  come  of  this ;  yet,  I  cannot 
say  no." 

"  Then  I  will  find  him  .and  bring  him  home,"  was 
the  animated  response  of  Kate. 

"  You  must  not  go  alone,"  remarked  Henry, 
taking  up  the  cap  he  had  a  few  minutes  before  laid 
off. 

"Wait  for  supper.  It  is  all  ready/'  said  Mrs. 
Ellis.  "  Don't  go  out  until  you  have  eaten  some- 
thing." 

"No  time  is  to  be  lost,  mother,"  replied  Kate. 
"  And,  then,  I  haven't  the  least  appetite." 

"  But  your  brother  has  been  working  hard  all 
day,  and  is,  of  course,  tired  and  hungry." 

"  Oh,  I  forgot,"  said  Kate.     "  But  Henry  needn't 
m.— is 


170  THE  TWO  WIVES:  OR, 


go  with  me.  If  he  will  only  tell  me  exactly  where 
I  can  find  father,  that  will  be  enough.  I  think  I'd 
better  see  him  alone." 

"  Food  would  choke  me  now."  Henry's  voice 
was  husky  and  tremulous.  "  Come,  sister,"  he 
added,  after  a  pause,  "  if  this  work  is  done  at  all,  it 
must  be  done  quickly." 

Without  a  word  more  on  either  part,  the  brother 
and  sister  left  the  room,  and  started  on  their 
errand. 


CHAPTEE  XXL 

LATE  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  on  which  oc- 
curred the  incidents  mentioned  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  Mr.  Wilkinson,  who  had  entirely  recovered 
from  his  embarrassed  condition,  and  who  was  now  a 
sober  man  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  as  well  as  a 
thrifty  merchant,  was  standing  at  one  of  the  coun- 
ters in  his  large,  well  filled  store,  when  a  miserable 
looking  creature  entered  and  came  back  to  where  he 
stood. 

"  Good-day,  Mr.  Wilkinson,"  said  the  new-comer. 

Surprise  kept  the  merchant  silent  for  some  mo- 
ments, when  the  other  said — 

"  You  don't  know  me,  I  presume." 

"  Henry  Ellis  I"  exclaimed  Wilkinson.  "  Is  it 
possible  you  have  fallen  so  low  ?" 


LOST  AND  WON.  171 


"  Just  as  you  see  me/'  was  replied. 

"  You  ought  to  be  more  of  a  man  than  this.  You 
ought  to  have  more  strength  of  character,"  said 
Wilkinson,  giving  utterance  to  the  first  thought  that 
came  into  his  mind. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  it  is  easy  to  talk,"  replied  Ellis,  with 
a  slight  impatience  of  manner.  "  But  you  know 
my  history  as  well  almost  as  I  know  it  myself.  I 
was  driven  to  ruin." 

"  How  so  ?" 

"  Why  do  you  aslj  the  question  ?" 

"  You  refer  to  your  wife  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  do.     She  drove  me  to  destruction." 

"  That  is  a  hard  saying,  Mr.  Ellis." 

"  Yet  true  as  that  the  sun  shines.  And  she  has 
had  her  reward !" 

This  last  sentence  was  uttered  in  a  tone  of  self- 
satisfaction  that  deeply  pained  Mr.  Wilkinson. 

"I  saw  your  wife  this  morning,"  he  remarked, 
after  a  moment's  silence. 

"You  did!    Where?" 

"  I  passed  her  in  the  street ;  and  the  sight  of  her 
made  my  heart  ache.  Ah,  my  friend  !  if  you  have 
been  wronged,  deeply  is  the  wrong  repaid  !  Such  a 
wreck  !  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes.  Ellis ! 
I  read  at  a  single  glance  her  countenance,  marred  by 
long  suffering,  and  found  in  it  only  the  sad  evidences 
of  patient  endurance.  She  is  changed.  I  am*bold 
to  say  that.  If  she  erred,  she  has  repented." 


172  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


"  But  not  atoned  for  a  wrong  that  is  irreparable/' 
said  Ellis  in  a  dogged  tone,  while  his  heavy  brows 
contracted. 

"  Ah  !  how  changed  you  are,  Ellis :  once  so  kind- 
hearted,  so  forgiving  and  forbearing  I" 

"  And  what  changed  me  ?  Answer  me  that,  John 
Wilkinson  !  Yes,  I  am  changed — changed  from  a 
man  into — into — yes,  let  me  say  the  word — into  a 
devil !  And  who  held  the  enchanter's  wand  ?  Who  ? 
The  wife  of  my  bosom  I" 

Wilkinson  felt  a  shudder  .creeping  along  his 
nerves  as  he  looked  at  the  excited  man,  and  heard 
his  words. 

"Cara  never  acts  toward  you,  now,  other  than 
with  kindness,"  said  he. 

But  Ellis  made  no  answer  to  this. 

"  Let  the  past  suffice,  my  friend,"  added  Wilkin- 
son. "  Both  have  suffered  enough.  Resolve,  in  the 
strength  of  God  and  your  own  manhood,  to  rise  out 
of  the  horrible  pit  and  miry  clay  into  which  you 
have  fallen." 

"  That  is  impossible.  So  we  won't  talk  about  it," 
said  Ellis,  impatiently.  "Lend  me  half  a  dollar, 
won't  you?" 

The  hand  of  Wilkinson  went  instinctively  to  his 
pocket.  But  he  withdrew  it,  without  the  coin  he 
had  designed,  from  the  moment's  impulse,  to  give. 
Shaking  his  head,  he  replied  to  the  application, 

"I  can't  give  you  money,  Ellis." 


LOST  AND  WON.  173 


"You  can't?" 

"No;  for  that  would  be  no  real  kindness.  But, 
if  you  will  reform  your  life;  if  you  will  abandon 
drink,  and  become  a  sober,  industrious  man,  I  will 
pledge  myself  to  procure  you  a  good  situation  as 
clerk.  In  a  few  years  you  may  regain  all  that  has 
been  lost." 

'  Bah  !"  muttered  Ellis,  grinding  his  teeth  as  he 
spoke.  "All  good  talk!"  and,  turning  away,  he 
passed  from  the  store  of  his  old  friend.  Without  a 
cent  in  his  pocket,  and  burning  with  a  desire  for 
drink,  he  had  conquered  all  reluctance  and  shame, 
and  applied,  as  we  have  seen,  to  an  old  friend,  for 
money.  Two  or  three  other  ineffectual  attempts 
were  made  to  get  small  sums,  but  they  proved  fruit- 
less. For  some  time  he  wandered  about  the  streets; 
then  he  entered  one  of  the  lower  class  of  taverns,  and 
boldly  called  for  a  glass  of  liquor.  But  the  keeper 
of  this  den,  grown  suspicious  by  experience,  saw  in 
the  face  or  manner  of  Ellis  that  he  had  no  money, 
and  coolly  demanded  pay  before  setting  forth  his 
bottle.  It  was  just  at  this  untimely  crisis  that  Henry 
came  in,  and,  taking  hold  of  his  father's  arm,  urged 
him  to  come  home.  The  cruel  rebuff  he  received  is 
known. 

The  blow  was  no  sooner  given  by  Ellis  than  re- 
pented of;  and  this  motion  of  regret  prompted  him 
to  express  his  sorrow  for  the  hasty  act,  but  when  he 
turned  to  speak  to  the  lad,  he  was  gone.  Almost 

15* 


174  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


maddened  by  thirst  and  excitement,  the  poor  wretch 
caught  up  from  the  counter  a  pitcher  of  ice  water, 
and,  placing  it  to  his  lips,  took  therefrom  a  long  deep 
draught.  Then  slowly  turning  away,  he  sought  a 
chair  in  a  far  corner  of  the  room  ;  where  he  seated 
himself,  crossed  his  arms  on  a  table,  and  buried  his 
face  therein. 

The  pure  cold  water  allayed  the  fever  that  burned 
along  the  drunkard's  veins.  Gradually  a  deep  calm 
pervaded  his  mind,  and  then  thought  became  active 
amid  thronging  memories  of  the  past.  He  had  once 
loved  his  home  and  his  children;  and  the  image 
of  Henry,  when  a  bright-eyed,  curly-headed,  happy 
child,  came  up  so  vividly  before  him,  that  it  was 
only  by  an  effort  that  he  kept  the  tears  from  gush- 
ing over  his  face.  For  years  he  had  cherished,  in 
mere  self-justification,  the  bitterest  feeling  towards 
his  wife ;  and  hundreds  of  times  had  he  given  ex- 
pression to  these  feelings  in,  words  that  smote  the 
heart  of  Cara  with  crushing  force.  Only  a  little 
while  before  he  had  spoken  of  her,  in  the  presence 
of  Wilkinson,  in  a  hard  and  unforgiving  spirit ;  but 
now  he  thought  of  her  more  kindly.  He  remem- 
bered how  patiently  she  had  borne  with  him ;  how 
uncomplainingly  she  had  met  and  struggled  with  her 
hard  lot ;  how  many  times  she  had  tried  to  smile 
upon  him,  even  through  tears  that  could  not  be  re- 
strained. Never  was  he  met,  on  his  return  home, 
with  coldness  or  neglect.  Wife  and  children  all 


LOST   ANI>   WON.  175 


sought  his  comfort ;  yet  he  cared  nothing  for  them, 
and  even  filled  their  paths  through  life  with  thorns. 
And  his  boy,  Henry,  whom  he  had  just  repulsed  in 
so  cruel  a  manner,  to  his  labour  was  he  indebted, 
mainly,  for  the  food  that  was  daily  set  before  him. 
How  this  thought  smote  him !  How  it  filled  his 
heart  with  shame  and  repentance ! 

Musing  thus,  the  unhappy  man  remained,  until, 
gradually,  his  thoughts  became  confused.  The  tem- 
porary excitement  of  feeling  died  away,  and  sleep 
overcame  him.  In  his  sleep  he  dreamed,  and  his 
dream  was  vivid  as  reality.  Not  as  of  old  did  he 
find  himself;  but,  in  the  vision  that  came  to  him, 
he  was  still  in  bondage  and  degradation,  with  a  hor- 
ribly distinct  realization  of  his  condition.  His  vile 
companions  were  around  him,  but  greatly  changed ; 
for  they  appeared  more  like  monsters  of  evil  than 
men,  and  were  malignant  in  their  efforts  to  do  harm. 
Against  him  they  seemed  to  feel  an  especial  hatred. 
Some  glared  and  gleamed  upon  him  with  the  fire  of 
murder  in  their  eyes ;  some  pointed  to  a  cheerless 
apartment,  in  which  he  saw  his  wife  and  children 
cowering  and  shivering  over  a  few  dying  embers,  and 
they  said — "  It  is  your  work !  It  is  your  work  I" 
They  were  devils  in  distorted  human  shapes,  and  he 
was  terribly  afraid.  Suddenly  he  was  set  upon  by 
one,  who  caught  him  by  the  throat  and  dragged  him 
into  what  seemed  the  cell  of  a  prison,  where  he  was 
cast  upon  a  heap  of  straw,  and  left  shuddering  with 


176  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

cold  and  fear.  Alone,  for  days  and  weeks  he  re- 
mained in  this  prison,  until  despair  seemed  to  dry 
up  the  very  blood  in  his  veins,  and,  after  a  desperate 
struggle  to  break  through  the  bars  of  his  narrow 
house,  he  sank  down  exhausted  and  ready  to  die. 
Then  came  a  new  horror.  He  had  died,  to  all  out- 
ward appearance,  and  was  in  his  coffin.  He  felt  his 
body  compressed,  and  gasped  and  panted  for  air  in 
his  narrow  house  of  boards.  It  was  an  awful  mo- 
ment. Suddenly  a  voice  came  to  his  ear:  "  Father ! 
father!"  It  was  the  voice  of  his  child — of  Kate. 
How  its  tones  thrilled  through  him !  How  his  heart 
leaped  with  the  hope  of  deliverance !  Father !  dear 
father  I" — The  call  was  renewed,  but  he  could  make 
no  answer,  for  his  tongue  was  powerless.  Again 
and  again  the  call  was  repeated,  yet  he  could  utter 
no  sound — could  make  no  sign.  Farther  off,  then, 
he  heard  his  name  called.  Horror !  she  had  failed 
to  discover  him,  and  was  about  departing.  In  the 
agony  of  the  moment  he  awoke.  There  was  a  hand 
laid  gently  upon  him,  and  a  voice  said — "  Father ! 
dear  father !  come  I"  . 

It  was  the  voice  of  his  child ;  the  same  voice  that 
had  penetrated  his  dreaming  ear. 

"Oh,  Kate!"  he  exclaimed,  eagerly;  "is  it  in- 
deed you  ?" 

"  Yes,  father/'  she  answered ;  "  and  won't  you 
come  home  with  me?" 

The  wretched    man  did  not  answer  in  words, 


LOST  AND   WON.  177 


but  arose  immediately  and  went  out  with  his  daugh- 
ter. 

"  Oh,  what  a  dream  I  had,  Kate  !"  said  Mr.  Ellis, 
as  he  left  the  door  of  the  tavern ;  "  and  you  came 
to  me  in  my  dream." 

His  feelings  were  much  excited,  and  he  spoke 
with  emotion. 

"Did  I,  father?"  replied  the  girl.  "And  how 
did  I  come  ?  As  a  good  angel  to  save  you  ?" 

"Waking,  you  have  come  to  me  as  such,"  an- 
swered the  father  after  a  brief  silence,  speaking 
more  calmly,  and  as  if  to  himself. 

How  wild  a  thrill  shot  through  the  frame  of  Kate 
at  these  words,  so  full  of  meaning  to  her ;  but  she 
dared  not  trust  herself  to  make  an  answer,  lest  she 
should  do  harm  rather  than  good.  And  so  they 
walked,  in  silence,  all  the  way  home ;  Henry,  who 
had  accompanied  his  sister,  keeping  a  short  distance 
behind  them,  so  that  his  father  had  no  indication 
of  his  presence. 


178  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

How  the  hearts  of  the  mother  and  her  two  oldest 
children  trembled  with  hope  and  fear !  A  marked 
change  was  apparent  in  Mr.  Ellis  when  he  came 
home  with  Kate.  He  was  sober,  and  very  serious, 
but  said  nothing ;  and  Mrs.  Ellis  deemed  it  prudent 
to  say  nothing  to  him. 

On  the  next  morning,  he  did  not  rise  early. 
Henry  had  eaten  his  breakfast  and  was  away  to  his 
work,  and  Kate  had  gone  to  market  to  get  some- 
thing for  dinner,  when  he  got  up  and  dressed  him- 
self. Mrs.  Ellis  was  ready  for  him  with  a  good  cup 
of  coffee,  a  piece  of  hot  toast,  some  broiled  steak,  and 
a  couple  of  eggs.  She  said  little,  but  her  tones  were 
subdued  and  very  kind.  Noticing  that  his  hand 
trembled  so  that  he  spilled  his  coffee  in  raising  his 
cup  to  his  lips,  (his  custom  was  to  get  a  glass  of 
liquor  before  breakfast  to  steady  his  nerves,)  she 
came  and  stood  beside  him,  saying,  as  she  did  so — 
",Let  me  hold  your  cup  for  you." 

Ellis  acquiesced ;  and  so  his  wife  held  the  cup  to 
his  lips  while  he  drank. 

"  Oh,  dear !  This  is  a  dreadful  state  to  be  in, 
Cara !" 

The  exclamation  was   spontaneous.      Had  Ellis 


LOST   AND   WON.  179 


thought  a  moment,  his  pride  would  have  caused 
him  to  repress  it. 

Mrs.  Ellis  did  not  reply,  for  she  was  afraid  to 
trust  herself  to  speak,  lest  her  words  or  voice  should 
express  something  that  would  check  the  better  feel- 
ings that  were  in  the  heart  of  her  husband.  But, 
ere  she  could  repress  it,  a  tear  fell  upon  his  hand. 
Almost  with  a  start,  Ellis  turned  and  looked  up  into 
her  face.  It  was  calm,  yet  sorrowful.  The  pale  and 
wasted  condition  of  that  face  had  never  so  struck 
him  before. 

"Ah,  Cara,"  said  he,  dropping  his  knife  and  fork, 
"  it  is  dreadful  to  live  in  this  way.  Dreadful ! 
dreadful !" 

The  poor,  almost  heart-broken  wife  could  com- 
mand herself  no  longer;  and  she  laid  her  face  down 
upon  her  husband  and  sobbed — the  more  convul- 
sively from  her  efforts  to  regain  self-possession. 

"  Oli,  Henry  !"  she  at  length  murmured,  "  if  the 
past  were  only  ours  !  If  we  could  but  live  over  our 
lives,  with  some  of  the  experience  that  living  gives, 
how  differently  should  we  act !  But,  surely,  hope  is 
not  clean  gone  for  ever !  Is  there  not  yet  a  better 
and  a  brighter  day  for  even  us  ?" 

"  There  is,  Cara  !  There  is  I"  replied  Ellis,  in 
tones  of  confidence.  "  It  has  been  a  long,  long 
night,  Cara ;  a  cold  and  cheerless  night.  But  the 
morning  breaks.  There  is  not  much  strength  left 
in  this  poor  arm,"  and  he  extended  his  right  hand, 


180  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 


that  trembled  like  an  aspen  leaf — "  but  it  can  yet 
do  something.  It  shall  not  be  with  us  as  it  has  been 
any  longer.  In  the  sight  of  Heaven,  and  in  the  hope 
of  strength  from  above,  I  promise  that,  Cara.  Will 
you  help  me  to  keep  my  promise  ?" 

"  Yes — yes — yes,"  was  the  emphatic  response. 
"  If  there  is  in  me  a  particle  of  strength,  it  is  yours, 
and  you  may  lean  on  it  confidently.  Oh,  Henry ! 
trust  in  me.  The  lessons  of  the  past  have  not  been 
learned  in  vain." 

"  I  am  very  weak,  Cara ;  the  pressure  of  a  child's 
hand  might  throw  me  over.  Do  not  forget  this. 
Never  forget  it !  If  you  will  keep  close  to  my  side, 
if  you  will  help  me,  and  love  me," — his  voice  qui- 
vered, and  he  paused,  but  regained  himself  in  a  few 
moments — "  I  think  all  will  be  well  with  us  again. 
God  helping  me,  I  will  try." 

"  Oh,  my  husband  !"  sobbed  Mrs.  Ellis,  drawing 
her  arms  lovingly  about  him — "  it  will  be  well 
with  us,  for  God  will  help  you,  I  will  help  you,  all 
will  help  you.  Forget  ?  Oh,  no !  I  can  never  forget. 
Have  we  not  all  been  thoughtful  of  you,  and  kind 
to  you  in  the  night  that  is  passing  away  ?" 

"  Yes,  Cara,  yes." 

"  And  will  we  not  be  kinder  and  more  loving  in 
the  brighter  future  ?  We  will !  we  will,  Henry  ! 
Oh  !  how  my  glad  heart  runs  over  I" 

"I  saw  Mr.  Wilkinson  yesterday,"  said  Ellis, 
after  both  had  grown  calmer ;  "  and  he  said  that 


LOST   AND   WON.  181 


he  could  and  would  get  me  a  situation  as  clerk.  I 
am  now  going  to  see  him,  and,  if  he  be  as  good  as 
his  word,  this  desert  place" — and  he  glanced  about 
the  room — "  will  soon  brighten  as  the  rose." 

The  entrance  of  Kate  closed  the  interview.  In 
a  little  while,  Ellis,  after  shaving  himself,  and  in 
every  possible  way  improving  his  appearance,  left  the 
house  and  went  direct  to  the  store  of  Wilkinson. 

"  Henry  !  Is  it  possible  I"  exclaimed  the  latter, 
in  surprise,  when  Ellis  stood  before  him. 

"  In  my  right  mind  again,"  was  the  calm,  but 
firmly  spoken  answer. 

"How  glad  I  am  to  hear  you  say  so!"  And 
Wilkinson  grasped  the  hand  of  his  old  friend,  and 
shook  it  warmly. 

"  You  remember  your  promise  of  yesterday  ?" 
said  Ellis.  He  spoke  seriously. 

"  To  get  you  a  good  situation  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  my  word,  Henry ;  and  will 
keep  it.  You  are  a  good  accountant  ?" 

"lam." 

"  This  morning  my  book-keeper  notified  me  of 
his  intention  to  leave  as  soon  as  I  could  supply  his 
place.  If  you  will  take  the  situation  at  seven  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars  a  year,  it  is  open  for  you." 

"  John  Wilkinson  I"  exclaimed  Ellis,  seizing  the 
hand  of  his  friend,  and  exhibiting  much  agitation. 
"  Are  you  indeed  in  earnest  ?" 

III.-16 


182  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR, 

"I  never  was  more  so  in  my  life,"  was  replied. 

"  Then,  indeed,  the  day  has  broken  !"  said  Ellis, 
with  emotion.  "  When  will  you  want  me  to  begin  ?" 
he  asked  after  a  short  period  of  silence. 

"  Now,"  replied  Wilkinson. 

"  Now,  did  you  say  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  have  work  that  needs  attention  at  once. 
When  will  you  come  ?" 

"  A  good  beginning  never  can  be  made  too  early. 
Now." 

Wilkinson  turned,  and  the  two  men  walked  back 
to  a  vacant  desk.  A  number  of  accounts  and  let- 
ters lay  thereon,  and,  as  Wilkinson  began  to  enter 
into  some  explanation  in  regard  to  them,  Ellis  took 
up  a  pen  and  laid  the  point  of  it  on  a  sheet  of 
paper.  The  nervous  tremor  of  his  hand  showed 
him  to  be  in  no  condition  for  the  task  upon  which 
he  was  about  entering.  Wilkinson  comprehended 
this  in  a  moment,  and  a  fear  lest  the  drunkard's  de- 
lirium should  follow  so  sudden  a  withdrawal  of 
stimulant  from  the  system  of  Ellis,  sent  a  chill 
through  his  feelings.  Instead  of  putting  him  to  the 
desk  at  once,  he  determined,  on  the  instant,  to  em- 
ploy him  at  more  active  work  about  the  store  for  a 
few  weeks,  until,  if  he  kept  to  his  good  resolution, 
some  degree  of  firmness  was  restored  to  his  shattered 
nerves.  In  agreement  with  this  humane  purpose 
he  acted. 

With  what  trembling  anxiety  did    Mrs.  Ellis 


LOST   AND   WON.  183 


await  the  return  of  her  husband  at  dinner-time  ! 
The  hours  wore  slowly  away,  and,  at  last,  her  watch- 
ful ear  caught  the  sound  of  his  footsteps.  She 
scarcely  breathed  until  the  door  opened.  One  glance 
sufficed.  All  was  well.  How  glad  was  the  im- 
pulse with  which  her  stilled  heart  went  on  again ! 
Tears  of  joy  bedewed  her  face,  when  he  related  the 
good  fortune  that  had  attended  his  call  on  Wilkinson. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  he,  when  he  had  told  her  all, 
and  glancing  around  the  room  as  he  spoke.  "  This 
desert  place  shall  blossom  as  the  rose.  I  have  said 
it,  and  I  will  keep  my  word." 

In  the  evening,  Henry  and  his  father  met,  for 
the  first  time,  face  to  face,  since  they  parted  in  anger 
on  one  side  and  grief  on  the  other.  When  Kate 
came  home  with  the  latter  on  the  night  previous, 
Henry  had  managed  to  enter  the  house  before  them, 
and  so  kept  out  of  his  father's  way.  Now,  on 
coming  in  from  his  work,  he  found  him  already  at 
home,  and  so  changed  in  appearance,  that  he  gazed 
upon  him  with  a  surprise  which  he  could  not  at 
first  conceal. 

"  Henry,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Ellis,  in  a  kind,  self- 
possessed  tone  of  voice,  and  he  reached  out  his  hand 
as  he  spoke. 

The  boy  took  his  father's  hand,  and  looked  earnest- 
ly into  his  face. 

"  Henry,  how  long  have  you  been  with  Mr.  Wil- 
son ?"  inquired  Mr.  'ilJis. 


184  THE   TWO   WIVES,    ETC. 


"  Two  years,  sir,"  was  answered. 

The  father  looked  at  the  boy's  hands,  and  sighed. 
They  were  hard  and  discolored  from  labour. 

"  Tell  Mr.  Wilson,  in  the  morning,"  said  he, 
"  that  I  wish  you  to  leave  him  after  this  week." 

"  Sir  !"     Henry  looked  surprised. 

"  Tell  him  that  I  wish  you  to  go  to  school  for  a 
year  or  two." 

"  Father !"  The  blood  flew  suddenly  to  the  lad's 
face.  For  a  few  moments  he  looked  at  his  father  ; 
then  turning,  he  passed  quickly  into  the  adjoining 
room.  In  the  stillness  that  followed,  were  audible 
the  sobs  that  came  from  his  overflowing  heart. 

A  week,  a  month,  a  year  have  passed,  yet  the 
promise  of  that  happy  time  is  dimmed  not  by  a 
single  cloud.  Firm  in  his  better  purpose  and  fully 
sustained  at  home,  Henry  Ellis  is  walking  steadily 
the  path  of  safety.  Home  is  what  it  ever  should 
have  been,  the  pleasantest  place  in  all  the  world ; 
for  she  who  is  its  sunlight  never  meets  him  with  a 
clouded  face.  His  desert  has,  indeed,  blossomed  as 
the  rose.  May  the  bloom  and  fragrance  thereof 
never  fade  nor  lose  its  sweetness  ! 


THE   END. 


STEREOTYPED  BT  L.  JOHNSON  AND  CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 


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nf  SLramnt: 


CONSISTING  OP 

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RELIGION  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES. 
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AND  REFUTED. 

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f  illugj 

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nf 


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BT   W.    WILLIAMS. 


8  LIPP1NCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

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FIRST  AMERICAN,  FROM  THE  THIRD  PARIS  EDITION. 

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SURGEON,   UNITED  STATES  NAVY. 
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month  in  the  year ;  with  ample  Practical  Directions  for  performing  the  same. 

BY   BERNARD    M'MAHON. 
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MASON'S  FARRIER  AND  STUD  BOOK-NEW  EDITION. 

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THE  GENTLEMAN'S  NEW  POCKET  FARRIER: 

COMPRISING  A  GENERAL  DESCRIPTION  OP  THE  NOBLE  AND  USEFUL  ANIMAL, 

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WITH   MODES   OF   MANAGEMENT   IN   ALL   CASES,    AND 
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TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED, 

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THE    HORSE; 

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TREATMENT   IN   DISfiASE. 

TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED, 

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Containing  Recipes  for  Diseases  of  Horses,  Oxen,  Cows,  Calves,  Sheep,  Dogs,  Swine,  Ac. 
BY  RICHARD  MASON,   M.D. 

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10  LIPPINCOTT,  GRANIBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

HINDS'S  FARRIERY  AND  _STUD-  BOOK-NEW  EDITION, 
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€xnim  ntt  tjj?  ®imm  ntifr  Slrritonts  nf  ij 

With  Instructions  to  the  Shoeing  Smith.  Farrier,  and  Groom;  preceded  by 

a  Popular  description  of  the  Animal  Functions  in  Health, 

and  how  these  are  to  he  restored  when  disordered. 

BY   JOHN    HINDS,    VETERINARY    SURGEON. 

With  considerahle  Additions  and  Improvements,  particularly  adapted  to 
this  country, 

BY   THOMAS    M.    SMITH, 

Veterinary  Surgeon,  and  Member  of  the  London  Veterinary  Medical  Society. 
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TO  CARPENTERS_AND   MECHANICS. 

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ALSO, 

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OF    PHILADELPHIA. 

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BY   C.   C.   BIDDLE,   ESQ. 

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THE    PO  ET'TTOFFEFU  N  G. 

EDITED    BY    MRS.    HALE. 

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€\i  City  3#mjjimt;  Dr, 


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ILLUSTRATED  WITH  TEN   ENGRAVINGS. 
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12  LIPP1NCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

RUSCHENBERGER'S    NATURAL    HISTORY. 

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THE  ELEMENTS  OF  NATURAL   HISTORY, 

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uttfr  its  Inns; 


BEING 

A  COMPLETE  HISTORY  OF  THE  MEXICAN  WAR, 

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LIPPINCOTT,  GflAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS.  13 


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THE  YOUNG  DOMINICAN; 
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frnm 

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EDITED  BY  THOMAS  WYATT,  A.  M. 
i  In  one  volume,  12mo. 

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14  UPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


DODD'S  LECTURES. 


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One  volume,  18mo. 


THE    IRIS: 

AN   ORIGINAL    SOUVENIR. 

WITH  CONTRIBUTIONS  FROM  THE  FIRST  WRITERS  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 
EDITED  BY  PROF.  JOHN  S.  HART. 

With  Splendid  Illuminations  and  Steel  Engravings.    Bound  in  Turkey 
Morocco  and  rich  Papier  Mache  Binding. 

IN   ONE  VOLUME,  OCTAVO. 


A    NARRATIVE, 

BY  LUKE  SHORTFIELD,  A  WESTERN   MERCHANT. 
In  one  volume,    12wio. 

LONZ  POWERS;  OR,  THE   REGULATORS, 

A   KOMANCE    OF   KENTUCKY. 

FOUNDED     ON     FACTS. 

BY  JAMES   "WEIR,   ESQ. 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 

A  MANUAL  OF  POLITENESS, 

COMPRISING 

THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  ETIQUETTE  AND  RULES  OF  BEHAVIOUR 

IN  GENTEEL  SOCIETY,  FOR  PERSONS  OF  BOTH  SEXES. 

18mo.,  with  Plates. 


UPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO,'S  PUBLICATIONS.  15 

BOOK  OF  POLITENESS. 


THE    GENTLEMAN    AND    LADY'S 

BOOK  OF  POLITENESS  AND  PROPRIETY  OF   DEPORTMENT, 

DEDICATED  TO  THE   YOUTH  OF  BOTH  SEXES, 
BY   MADAME    CELNART. 

TRANSLATED  FROM   THE  SIXTH   PARIS  EDITION,   ENLARGED  AND  IMPROVED. 
FIFTH     AMERICAN     EDITION. 

One  volume,  18mo. 

SENECA'S  MORALS, 

BY  WAY   OF   ABSTRACT   TO   WHICH   IS   ADDED,   A   DISCOURSE 
UNDER  THE  TITLE  OF  AN  AFTER-THOUGHT. 

BY  SIR  ROGER  (.'ESTRANGE,  KNT. 
A  new  and  fine  edition;  one  volume,  ISmo. 

A  copy  of  this  valuable  little  work  should  be  found  in  every  family  li- 
brary. 

Bennett's  (Rev.  John)  Letters  to  a  Young  Lady, 

ON  A  VARIETY   OF   SUBJECTS   CALCULATED   TO   IMPROVE    THE 
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THE  UNDERSTANDING. 
"That  our  daughters  may  be  as  polished  comers  of  the  temple. 

THE   AMERICAN   CHESTERFIELD: 

OR,  "YOUTH'S  GUIDE  TO  THE  WAY  TO  WEALTH,  HONOUR,  AND 
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In  one  volume,  18mo. 

ALSO  A   COMPLETE   TREATISE  OX  THE  ART  (HP  CABVEKJ. 


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frigg's  Inntjprn  unit  Astern  !nng0t?r ; 

BEING  A  CHOICE   COLLECTION   OF  THE   MOST   FASHIONABLE 

SONGS,  MANY  OF  WHICH  ARE  ORIGINAL. 

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16  LIPPINOOTT,  GRAMBO  &,  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

's  (Dmtt  38nnk: 

OR,  PRACTICAL  HINTS  FROM  A  FATHER  TO  HIS  DAUGHTER, 
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THE  LIFE  AND  OPINIONS  OF  TRISTRAM  SHANDY,  GENTLEMAN. 

COMPRISING   THE   HUMOROUS  ADVENTURES  OP 

UNCLE  TOBY  AND   CORPORAL  TRIM, 

BY   L.    STERNE. 
Beautifully  Illustrated  by  Dai-ley.    Stitched. 

A   SENTIMENTAL    JOURNEY. 

BY   L.    STERNE. 

ILLUSTRATED    AS    ABOVE    BY   PARLEY.       STITCHED. 

The  beauties  of  this  author  are  so  well  known,  and  his  errors  in  style 
and  expression  so  few  and  far  between,  that  one  reads  with  renewed  delight 
his  delicate  turns,  &c. 

ROBOTHAM'S  POCKET  FRENCH  DICTIONARY. 

CAREFULLY   REVISED, 

AND  THE  PRONUNCIATION  OF  ALL  THE  DIFFICULT  WORDS  ADDED 

THE  YOUNG  CHORISTER; 

A  Collection  of  New  and  Beautiful  Tunes,  adapted  to  the  use  of  Sabbath- 

Schools,  from  some  of  the  most  distinguished  composers,  to- 

gether with  many  of  the  author's  compositions. 

EDITED  BY  MINARD  W.  WILSON. 

THE   GREEK  EXILE: 

Or,  A  Narrative  of  the  Captivity  and  Escape  of  Christophonis  Plato  Castanis, 

DURINQ   THIS  MASSACRE  ON  THE  ISLAND  OF  8CIO  BY  THE   TURKS. 

TOGETHER  WITH  VARIOUS  ADVENTURES  IN  GREECE  AND  AMERICA. 

WRITTEN   BY    HIMSELF. 

One  volume,  12mo. 


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CAMP  LIFE  OF  A  VOLUNTEER, 

A  Campaign  in  Mexico;  or,  A  Glimpse  at  Life  in  Camp. 

BY  "  ONE  WHO  HAS  SEEN  THE  ELEPHANT." 

LIFE  OF  PAUL  JONES. 

In  one  volume,  12  mo. 

WITH    ONE    HUNDRED    ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY    JAMES    HAMILTON. 

THE  LIFE  OF  GENERAL  JACKSON, 

WITH   A    LIKENESS   OF   THE    OLD    HERO. 
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LIFE  OF  GENERAL  ZACHARY  TAYLOR, 

COMPRISING  A  NARRATIVE  OP  EVENTS  CONNECTED  WITH  HIS 
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GENERAL  TAYLOR  AND  HIS  STAFF: 

Comprising  Memoirs  of  Generals  Taylor,  Worth,  Wool,  and  Butler;  Colonels 

May,  Cross,  Clay,  Hardin,  Yell,  Hays,  and  other  distinguished 

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INTERSPERSED  WITH 

NUMEROUS  ANECDOTES  OF  THE  MEXICAN  WAR, 

AND  PERSONAL  ADVENTURES  OF  THE  OFFICERS. 

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18  LIPP1NCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


Intt  nuh  jjia  J>taff: 


Comprising  Memoirs  of  Generals  Scott,  Twiggs,  Smith,  Quitman,  Shields, 

Pillow,  Lane,  Cadwallader,  Patterson,  and  Pierce;  Colonels  Childs, 

Riley,  Harney,  and  Butler;  and  other  distinguished 

Officers   attached  to  General  Scott's  Army. 

TOGETHER  WITH 

Notices  of  General  Kearney,  Col.  Doniphan,  Colonel  Fremont,  and  other 

Officers  distinguished  in  the  Conquest  of  California  and  New  Mexico; 

and  Personal  Adventures  of  the  Officers.    Compiled  from 

Public  Documents  and  Private  Correspondence. 

WITH 

ACCURATE  PORTRAITS  AND  OTHER  BEAUTIFUL  ILLUSTRATIONS. 
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THE   LEGISLATIVE   GUIDE: 

Containing  directions  for  conducting  husiness  in  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives; the  Senate  of  the  United  States;  the  Joint  Rules  of  both  Houses; 
a  Synopsis  of  Jefferson's  Manual,  and  copious  Indices;  together 
with  a  concise  system  of  Rules  of  Order,  based  on  the  Regula- 
tions of  the  United  States  Congress.  Designed  to  economise 
time,  secure  uniformity  and  despatch  in  conducting 
business  in  all  secular  meetings,  and  also  in  all  re- 
ligious, political,  and  Legislative  Assemblies. 

BY  JOSEPH  BARTLETT  BURLEIGH,  LL.D. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 

This  is  considered  by  our  Judges  and  Congressmen  as  decidedly  the  best 
•work  of  the  kind  extant.  Every  young  man  in  the  country  should  have  a 
copy  of  this  book. 


THE    FAMILY    DENTIST, 

INCLUDING  THE  SURGICAL,  MEDICAL,  AND  MECHANICAL  TREAT- 
MENT OF  THE  TEETH. 

Illustrated  -with  Tltirty-niic  Engravings. 

BY  CHARLES  A.  DU  BOUCHET,  M.  D., 

DENTAL     SURGEON. 

In   one  volume,    18mo. 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS.  19 

MECHANICS 

FOR  THE  MILLWRIGHT,  ENGINEER,  AND  MACHINIST, 
CIVIL  ENGINEER  AND  ARCHITECT: 

CONTAINING 

THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  MECHANICS  APPLIED  TO  MACHINERY 

Of  American  Models,  Steam-Engines,  Water-Works,  Navigation,  Bridge- 
building,  Ac.,  &c. 
BY   FREDERICK    OVERMAN, 

AUTHOR  OP  "  THE   MANUFACTURE  OP  IRON,"  AND  OTHER  SCIENTIFIC  TREATISES. 

Illustrated    by    150    Engravings. 

In  one  large  12mo.  volume. 


CALIFORNIA  AND  OREGON: 

Or,  Sights  in  the  Gold  Region,  and  Scenes  by  the  Way. 

BY  THEODORE  T.  JOHNSON. 

WITH    A    MAP    AND   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

THIRD  EDITION,  WITH  AN  APPENDIX, 

Containing  Full  Instructions  to  Emigrants  by  the  Overland  Route  to 

Oregon. 

BY    HON.    SAMUEL    R.    THURSTON, 
Delegate  to  Congress  from  that  Territory. 


WILD  WESTERN  SCENES: 

A  NARRATIVE  OF  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  WESTERN  WILDERNESS. 
Wherein  the  Exploits  of  Daniel  Boone,  the  Great  American  Pioneer,  are 
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ing and  Fowling  Adventures;  Encounters  with 
Serpents,  Ac.,  <tc. 

BY  LUKE  SHORTFIELD, 
Author  of  "  The  Western  Merchant." 

WITH     SIXTEEN     BEAUTIFUL     ILLUS  TEATION8. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 


20  LlPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

POEMS  OF  THE  PLEASURES: 

CONSISTING  OF 

THE  PLEASURES  OF  IMAGINATION,  by  Akensdde;  THE  PLEASURES 

OF  MEMORY,  by  Samuel   Rogers;    THE   PLEASURES  OF 

HOPE,  by  Campbell;  and  THE  PLEASURES  OP 

FRIENDSHIP,  by  M'Henry. 

WITH  A   MEMOIR  OF  EACH  AUTHOR, 

Prepared  expressly  for  this  Work. 

One  volume,  18mo. 


Minis;  1 1tnrij  nf  Sote 

THREE  VOLUMES  OF  THE  LONDON  EDITION  COMPLETE  IN  ONE 

VOLUME,  12mo. 
A  new  noTel,  equal  to  "Jane  Eyre." 


ARTHUR'S  LIBRARY  FOR  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

To  be  complete  in  Twelve  handsome  18mo.  volump»,  bound  in  scarlet  cloth, 
and  each  work  complete  in  itself. 

1.  WOMEN'S  TRIALS;  OR,  TALES  AND  SKETCHES  FROM  THE  LIFE 

AROUND  US. 

2.  MARRIED  LIFE;  ITS  SHADOWS  AND  SUNSHINE. 

3.  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR,  LOST  AND  WON. 

4.  THE  WAYS  OF  PROVIDENCE;    OR,  "HE   DOETH  ALL  THINGS 

WELL." 

5.  HOME  SCENES. 

The  other  volumes  are  in  progress,  and  will  be  issued  at  an  early  day. 
Thia  Series  will  form  a  most  instructive  and  interesting  companion  for  the 
fireside,  and  no  family  should  be  without  a  copy  of 

"ARTHUR'S  LIBRARY  FOR  THE   HOUSEHOLD." 


UCSB 


* 


A    000605216     1 


